


Love, Life And Family

by Audrey, Pantherlily



Series: Johnlock Series [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Possible trigger warnings for it?, mentions drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 144,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey/pseuds/Audrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantherlily/pseuds/Pantherlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are raising two children now and it isn't as easy as they thought it would be. Part six in a Johnlock series. Takes place two and half years after 'Never Surrender' ends. Helpful to read the previous stories but not essential. However, references and back story might not make sense otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back from my hiatus! Thanks for being patient.

Things were going great. The children were growing. Little Sandi was less than a month away from being three and Thomas would be nine at the end of the year. His marriage to John was going so amazing. They still fought sometimes but they always worked it out before something too emotionally damaging happened to either. Sherlock was at the office, well on his way to finishing up a case when his mobile rang. He sighed at the distraction and his eyes narrowed at the number calling. He answered it and held a brief conversation. Mostly just him apologizing to the other person. He sighed again and walked over to John's office. "It is Thomas. Another fight. Third one this month, they are suspending him. If he gets in another one after the suspension they are going to expel him."

"Amy." John had the little girl in his lap, facing the computer as she hit her hands eagerly on the desk in an attempt to reach the keyboard. "Oh, Amy," he whispered into her hair, long and blonde now. She looked more and more like him every day, something that made him laugh constantly and tell Sherlock he felt horrid for her. He was whispering things to her when Sherlock walked in, his face solemn and...well, shit.

"Papapapapa!" Amy bounced in John's lap at the sight of Sherlock, making John smile a bit.

"Amy, shh..." John let her turn in his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. "So they are sending him back to the flat now? Or do we need to go pick him up?" He held on to their daughter as she squirmed in his arms. "Sherlock, what is going on with him? He is almost nine, shouldn't he be...I don't know, digging around in the dirt? Not punching other blokes in school?"

"'Mas!" Amy said with a grin as she reached to pull some hair on her Dad's head, struggling since he had just gotten his hair cut.

"Shhh..." John bounced the little girl in his arms but kept his eyes locked on his husband. "Sherlock, we need to talk to him."

Sherlock had forgotten John had brought little Sandi to work today. His husband often did when they were close to wrapping up a case. It was something he was still getting used to. He smiled at her. "Baby Girl, are you helping Daddy do his work?" God, she was getting so big and talking. He looked back over at John. "We need to pick him up. I was hoping you could go? I am almost done with this case and then I will meet you back at the flat and we'll sit down and talk to him together." He fell quiet a moment. "Or we can make him sit and wait a bit, give him time to think about it while I finish this up and we can go get him together." There. His husband would probably like that option better. Even though almost three years had gone by he was still trying to learn how to juggle work and family. It was tough and often a common reoccurring theme in the fights he had with his husband. It was either that or money.

John smiled warmly and moved forward and give Sherlock a quick, gentle kiss. "Yeah, 'sfine," he whispered as his free hand moved to gently squeeze his husband's hip. "I will go pick him up, have Mrs. Hudson watch Amy while I do." The little girl squeaked at the mentioned of the woman who she had taken to calling 'ganma' which only made John smile more. "I will sit him down in the living room and start some tea, yeah?" God, raising a boy was...a bit more complicated than Amy. The idea of her fighting in the future made him sick to his stomach. That couldn't happen. Not his baby girl. "I...don't even know how to deal with it," he admitted softly as Amy reached a hand out and tugged at Sherlock's shirt.

"Papa, love you," Amy said brightly, making John look up at his husband with a loving smile.

"Take your time, love. This is a private case and we need the money." John leaned forward and gave Sherlock another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer.

Sherlock smiled, rather pleased. Good, very good. He was about to turn his attention to little Sandi when John kissed him for a second time and God, his husband tasted wonderful like usual. "Love you," he murmured behind the kiss. He finally looked down at Amy and knelt down to be at her level. "I know you do Baby Girl, I love you too. Papa has to catch the bad guy but you be good for Mrs. Hudson, okay? I will bring you a surprise if you do, because you are my favorite girl in the entire world." He smiled brightly before showering her with little kisses all over the face. When finished giving his daughter all the attention she rightly deserved in his opinion, he stood back up. He leaned over and gave John a quick kiss on the cheek. "I shouldn't be long Love. See you soon." He walked out of his husband's office and back to his.

John watched Sherlock leave with a soft smile, holding Amy close and talking to her with a higher-pitched voice. He dropped her off with Mrs. Hudson and she squirmed and sprinted toward the new toys in the flat the moment she was on the floor. John thanked their landlady profusely before he got a taxi and headed toward the private school they had officially enrolled Thomas in once he'd gotten old enough. The woman at the front desk knew him, giving him an apologetic look the moment he walked in. Straight to the principal's office, the path was, sadly, memorized. The moment he saw Thomas he froze. Did he hug their son? "Mate," he muttered with a sorry, lop-sided smile. "Want a hug?" He studied Thomas closely before glancing around the room. They had a few moments alone before the principle came back.

Thomas rolled his eyes; well he would have if one hadn't been swollen shut and already bruising. "I am too old for hugs," he grumbled. He still wore the necklace out of snake's teeth that Sherlock had made for him on the island. He was staring down at it thoughtfully and fidgeting with it between his fingers. He hesitated before looking up to his Dad. "Do…do you think it makes me a girl because I still wear this?"

Right. _That_ age. John had just opened his mouth to say that nobody was too old for hugs before he tensed, looked down at the necklace, and frowned. Oh. So Thomas had been being teased? He moved to sit in the chair beside his son. "No, it doesn't make you a girl at all," he whispered as he reached a hand out to gently ruffle his son's hair. "Are people teasing you, Thomas? Why..." John cleared his throat and, sod it, he could hug his son. He pulled Thomas's head toward him and rested it against his chest. "Why didn't you tell Daddy and I?"

Thomas didn't struggle against the hug and he was quiet a long while. "I didn't care that he called me a girl...not really. I told him that I wasn't. That Daddy wears a necklace too. He sneered and laughed at me. Told me I was a baby for using the word 'daddy' and that I was girl just like him. Told me Daddy was a fag and that you were an ugly whore. I couldn't let him talk about you guys like that…" He trailed off. It was like that stupid hospital all over again. At the time he hadn't really understood but as he grew older realization had come upon him. He had even looked up the story on the Internet. Many of the news clippings had been infuriating. Daddy was right, people were _stupid_.

That made John wince. Their lives had been rather public when they had taken Thomas into their family and it wasn't hard to find any of the information. And now...now Thomas was being teased for him and Sherlock being married. It wasn't really anything he had taken into account until now. "Shhh, it is okay," he whispered as he closed his eyes. Did he apologize for everything that was happening? None of it was their son's fault, really. Why hadn't Thomas told them earlier when the other two fights happened? Fuck, he was horrid at this parenting thing. "Why didn't you tell us about the teasing, kiddo?" He whispered into his son's hair, one hand moving to rub soothingly at Thomas's back.

Thomas shrugged. "You and Daddy are always busy with work and you were awful furious about the last two fights. I know I promised to try and do better, but he just wouldn't shut up Dad. He kept laughing and pointing at me. Then everyone was laughing. I just wanted him to stop laughing and I punched him in the jaw. He punched me back and then we were just at each other and I managed to get on top of him and I just kept punching. I couldn't stop. I was so mad…I am going to be grounded forever now, aren't I?"

John had been an absolutely horrible father to this boy. Fuck. "Thomas, I didn't know you were getting teased. I wish I would have known so we could have talked about it." He placed a gentle kiss on his son's forehead and looked down at him with a warm smile. "I will talk to Daddy, yeah? I think...you did stand up for yourself and it is partly my fault for teaching you how to fight." He laughed a bit and poked the tip of Thomas's nose. "And your eye isn't looking so great. We will ice it when we get back home," he whispered as he tilted his head and inspected the growing bruise. "I was thinking of getting you on a rugby team. Good way to get all of that aggression out. What do you think?"

Even with a black eye, confusion was readable on his face. "So…I'm not in trouble then?" Thomas nodded slowly. "That would be good, I guess." He saw the principal coming over and groaned.

"Doctor Watson. I just got done talking to the parents of the other boy involved. I am afraid I have some bad news. The parents want Thomas expelled from school. I don't think it is really necessary. Boys fight from time to time, it happens. And in way am I condoning violence…" The principal gave a stern look to Thomas. "Anyway, the parents said they will sue you and your husband if you don't withdraw him from the school. Thomas is still suspended for a week, but if you decide to not send him here I understand. Although, we would hate to lose a boy like him. His teachers say his is very bright, just a little rough around the edges."

John took a deep breath and glanced at his son before looking back at the principal. "I am not trying to cause anything but they were teasing him." He shifted in his chair to face the principle fully, folding his hands in his lap. "They were teasing him about...about Sherlock and I. If they want to sue us then they can go right ahead but I think they have a right to know that if they sue us we have a perfectly acceptable argument as well as the backing of Mycroft Holmes, a very high standing member of the government." God, he hated pulling that card but this school was the best thing for Thomas. They couldn't just pull him out of school because some other bloke was being a jerk to their son. "He is staying but that boy should be punished as well for teasing our son. It isn't his fault Sherlock and I are married at all." That was a suitable argument, wasn't it?

The principal tried not to smirk. "Yes, a teacher saw it all happen and explained it to me. The teacher probably should have stopped the fight sooner, but he didn't." He shook his head a bit with a sigh. "And Doctor Watson, I am well aware of who you and your husband are. And fully aware of whom your brother-in-law is. Mycroft and I are mates from our school boy days. We still get together and have tea from time to time. I attended his wedding, although I don't think we were introduced at the time. But I digress. We are talking about Thomas and his future here. We have no reason to expel him as of now and we won't, so long as he doesn't get in another fight the rest of the school year. I overheard you mentioning rugby to the boy, which is a splendid idea. And between you and me, good show standing up to those other parents. Give 'em hell, eh?" The smirk finally twitched on his lips and he clapped John on the back. He looked down at Thomas. "No more fighting. If you are having trouble with another student, talk to me or a teacher or your parents."

Thomas was quiet as he listened and merely nodded at the principal when finally spoken to.

Did Mycroft know everybody? John smiled warmly, a bit forced, before he glanced at his son. "Right. Thank you, Sir. A-And I will give Mycroft and Lestrade a hello from you." He cleared his throat and stood up, offering his hand for a quick handshake. "Thank you again. We will be sure to have a family discussion with Thomas tonight and I'll talk to my husband about rugby. He is a bit hesitant because anything Thomas does our daughter is adamant about doing as well. She tried to follow him off to school one day last week." He laughed slightly and offered his hand to Thomas. "C'mon mate, let's go get you some apple juice...and some ice for that eye of yours." He smiled warmly at Thomas. There. Fixed. Maybe their son would start to get on the right track?

The principal smiled and shook John's hand firmly before walking back to his office.

Thomas sighed at the prospect of a family meeting. They were always so boring and stupid. They did most of the talking and he usually just sat there because he didn't think either of them would care about what a kid had to say. And when they weren't busy with each other they paid attention to his sister. He sighed at his thoughts and looked up to his Dad with his one good eye. "Do you and Daddy love Amy more than me?"

John's head shot up at that, eyes narrowed in confusion. Honestly, they should have expected to deal with that question. "What?" He sat back down next to Thomas and shook his head. "Thomas, no...no, of course we don't." He licked his lips and sighed. Was it because Amy was younger and, naturally, needed a bit more attention? Was that part of the reason Thomas had been acting out? "Thomas, we love you both equally. You are our little boy! Daddy and I love you more than you know." He moved a finger under his son's chin to keep his head raised he knew he had his attention. "Don't you ever think that we don't love you just as equally as Amy. You are so loved," he whispered as he leaned forward to place a kiss on Thomas's forehead. "I love you, Thomas. Don't you ever forget that."

"But Amy is really your daughter…I am just…some stray dog you picked up along the way." Thomas was crying now and he hugged his Dad tightly. "The second fight was with the same boy. He said I was just mongrel you and Daddy felt sorry for and that you would never love me because I'm not really yours. I…I didn't tell you before because I thought maybe he was right and if I brought it up…you'd get rid of me…" This was stupid. He was acting like a baby with his stupid insecurities. If his parents got rid of him, at least he would know why.

John held Thomas to him tightly, looking up at the woman behind the desk who smiled weakly at him. She moved to close the door to the office and retreated to the principal's office to give them some privacy. "You aren't just some stray dog, Thomas. Amy is only related to me. Sherlock...Daddy, he took in her just like you. See how much he loves her? I love you just as much as I love Amy, my little boy," he whispered as he moved a hand to scratch up and down the boy's back softly. "We would never get rid of you. You are our son and we love you so much. We are going to take care of this other boy, all right? You have no right to be teased because of me and Daddy." He pulled away slightly to look Thomas in the eyes. He was crying a bit, too. Maybe that would help the boy feel better. "We love you too much to just leave you, Thomas."

Thomas sniffled and nodded. "Can we go now? Class gets out soon…" He trailed off with a shrug. Now that they were talking he might as well talk about the first fight. "The first time I fought, same stupid jerk boy," he muttered darkly. "Told me I wasn't allowed to like girls and I don't even know what I like yet! Told me gay boys didn't belong at an all boy school." He paused to sniffle some more. "If I like girls, is that okay? I wouldn't disappoint you and Daddy…" He was so confused and scared, something he had hard time admitting to himself. He was eight and a half years old, why was he still acting like a baby?

Right. That was a conversation that John didn't know how to handle at all. What did he say? "Thomas, you are pretty young still and girls, or boys...they are a bit of a scary subject," he whispered with a smile. "But if you like girls, that is fine. Daddy and I will support you and love you no matter who you decide to love." There was a pause and, for a moment, John turned into quite the protective father. "And you don't let those other boys tell you who you can and cannot love. There is nothing wrong with loving girls or boys, all right? You will figure everything out in time. No need to rush." He stood up, offering his hand to his son. "How 'bout we go back to the flat and make you some tea? I think Amy misses you."

Thomas nodded and took his Dad's hand and followed John out outside. "If I'm not supposed to fight anymore, what am I supposed to do? Tattling just makes it worse later on. He's just…he is just a big, mean bully! I'm not the only one he picks on. I thought maybe if I fought back and showed I wasn't afraid of him he'd back off. I think he hates me."

"There are mean people in the world, Thomas. People who are close-minded and not worth your time. He is one of them," John said as they started walking down the street. They could pick up a taxi later, walking with Thomas was a bit more important. "Just don't punch him, okay? Don't hit him anymore. We will get you into rugby and you can pretend you are hitting him there." He looked down at his son with a wide grin, squeezing the boy's hand. "Walk away. That makes you stronger. Falling down to his level...that just makes you look as bad as him." He looked ahead, smiled some, and laughed. "You know, I hated your Daddy when we first met. Just a bit."

Thomas nodded and shrugged. "I guess," he muttered. He looked up at his Dad in surprise. "You did? How come?" That was weird to think about. "Is it because Daddy knows everything about everyone just by looking at them? I wish…I wish I could be smart like him…" He sighed, shrugging again.

"It was because he was just a bit rude. Brilliant...but rude." John smiled and stopped walking, kneeling down to look Thomas in the eye. "You can be just as smart as him. Stay in school and study...focus on your school work." He pulled the boy into a hug and grinned. "Now I am going to talk to Daddy and we aren't going to have a family talk about this until tomorrow, all right? I am going to get some school work for you to do so you aren't entirely bored." He stood back up and finally hailed a taxi, pulling them into it with ease. He pulled out his phone and started texting Sherlock.

_Not talking to Thomas tonight. Talk to you before bed. Hope the case is going well. Love you. -JW_

Thomas nodded and got in the cab silently. He stared out the window and watched London pass him by. He had been so excited to see it a couple years ago but it had lost its wonder and excitement for him.

_The case is finished. They transferred the money electronically to our bank account. I am already back at the flat. Gave little Sandi some carrots for a snack and put her down for a nap. Got her another stuffed dog. Apparently she wants all 101 of them. She is still begging me to get her a puppy. – SH_

John snorted at that, reading the text multiple times before hitting reply.

_Bad idea to watch that Dalmatians movie with her last week, wasn't it? Put the kettle one, we are a few minutes away. Give Thomas a hug when we get there. He's...he just needs some attention. -JW_

He slid his mobile back into his jacket and looked over at his son, frowning just a bit. "Do you remember the first time you saw London? You screamed, climbed on my shoulders in excitement. You made us walk around all day. Big Ben, the river Thames." He smiled warmly at Thomas. "You hardly slept that night because you just wanted to look out your window."

_All right. I'll see you both soon. Love you. – SH_

Thomas looked over to his Dad, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I was just thinking about that right now actually. Weird." He glanced out the window again, his voice dropping. "Mum would take me everywhere. I still miss her…" A sniffle but no tears. "…I miss traveling. London's lost its wonder for me I guess. Can we go somewhere sometime?" His gaze returned to John once more, with a wistful look.

"Dad's know best," John whispered as he wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and tugged him into his side. "Sherlock and I have been talking about a family vacation," he muttered, more to himself than to Thomas. "Maybe this summer? We have got a lovely private beach in Italy that your Grandma lets us use." He smiled at the thought. Their honeymoon. It had been quite the wonderful time and they _had_ discussed taking their family there at one point. "You know, I lost my Dad when I was young. Heart attack. It's okay to cry about it, mate. She was your Mum but you've got to remember she's always with you." He moved his free hand to poke over the boy's heart. "Right here. She isn't going to let anything bad happen to you that you can't handle."

Oh Italy. The last place, other than the plane Thomas had seen his mother. That did it. He started crying, turning his head away in hopes his Dad wouldn't see. "What…what…if we…we go to Italy and we crash on the way home? What if you and Daddy die and I had to take care of Amy all alone?" He was working himself up and he began to hyperventilate.

Way to go, Watson. John closed his eyes for a long moment before he gently moved Thomas from his seat and set him on his lap. "Shhh, it's all right." He pulled the boy tight against his chest, one hand resting protectively on the boy's head while the other rubbed his back soothingly. "We could go to Scotland," he whispered. "Not fly. Nobody is going to die, Thomas. We are a family and we're always going to be together. Shh, you can cry." The cab came to a stop and John slid out, keeping Thomas wrapped tightly in his arms as he managed to grab the boy's book bag. He walked into the flat, smiled a bit at Mrs. Hudson, and went upstairs. "Do you want some juice, mate? Would that make you feel better?" He kissed Thomas' temple as he set the book bag on the couch, glancing at Sherlock for a moment.

As soon as they were inside the flat, Thomas wiggled out of his Dad's arms and ran to his room. He closed the door behind him, breathing heavily as he slid down the door. He glanced at Amy's bed, napping. Of course. He would just have to be quiet.

Sherlock glanced at the closed bedroom door with raised eyebrows and then over to John. "Tea for two then, I guess. What is going on? Wait…does Thomas have a black eye?"

John closed his eyes for a long moment before glancing at Sherlock. "He got in another fight. Same bloke." He pursed his lips for a moment and sighed. There wasn't really a gentle way to approach the entire situation, was there? "They are teasing him because of us," he said softly as he took a step closer to Sherlock. "They're saying that Thomas is a girl just like his parents. That you are a fag and I am nothing but an ugly whore. They're telling him he can't like girls since he has two fathers." He shook his head and looked back at the closed door. "He is being teased because of us and is fighting to stand up for us, Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at what he heard and he took to angry pacing for a moment. He sat down in his chair with a sigh. Hamish jumped onto his lap immediately, the cat's head bumping into his chest. He pet the feline absently, used to the brief kneading of claws before Hamish did a few circles and laid down. Not this again. Last time John went to jail. His eyes closed as he tried to calm down. "It sounds like the kid deserved it then, but another fight and the school will expel Thomas." He opened his eyes and looked up to his husband. "What are we going to do about this?"

John moved and fell into his chair, shrugging in defeat. "I don't know. We can't stop that kid from teasing him, can we? The principle said...he said that the bloke's parents want Thomas removed from the school. If he isn't than we're getting sued, apparently. I am going to talk to Mycroft." He relaxed further into his chair, stretching his legs out and bumping his shoe against Sherlock's. "I don't want to talk to him until tomorrow. We...we need to talk about it before we discuss anything with him." When had raising a child become so difficult? It had been fine with Thomas until he had gotten into school. "He thinks we love Amy more than him."

"Sue us?" Sherlock scoffed with a shake of his head. "For what? Our boy punching theirs? Even though the little bastard deserved it? Maybe they should learn to be better parents before pointing the fingers at someone else." God, he was pissed off. He began scratching roughly at Hamish's head and got bit for it. He muttered an apology to the cat when John's last sentence finally sunk in. "He what? That's ridiculous…but…I guess not surprising…"

"What? Not surprising? Sherlock, Amy is a lot younger than him. She needs a bit more attention than he does!" John dropped his head into his hands with an exasperated sigh, his entire body tense as he stood up and started pacing. "Why are they teasing him? He has two fathers, why is that _any_ of their business?" He frowned and shook his head, stopping to face his husband. "I just want to raise our children right and now he is getting teased because of us. What else are we supposed to do?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he watched John pace. "Well, look at from his point of view. I should have seen it sooner. Should have talked to him about it. It is my fault, I'm sorry." He had failed as a father and husband. He sighed and closed his eyes in thought. "Children tease and bully others who are different. Unfortunately, that is just the way things are in a school. Even in a private one, where you would think children would be better behaved. Maybe…we can try to reason with the other boy's parents. Although it seems doubtful, as the child's prejudice probably comes directly from them."

"I am going to punch his bloody parents in the face," John snapped as he turned around swiftly on his heels. "Our son does not deserve that! He is perfect and does nothing wrong and this bloke still feels the need to do this? No!" He moved into the kitchen with a small shout, groaning when he heard a cry from the kids' room that only meant he had woken Amy up. "Fuck. Of course," he muttered as he tossed his mug on to the counter and moved toward the room. "Thomas, mate, do you mind if I come in?" He muttered as he knocked gently at the door.

Sherlock frowned. John was not handling this well. However, he couldn't blame his husband for the ire. He was pissed off too, but one of them needed to stay calm. He was about to get up and go to the children's room when he heard the cry but John had already beat him to it. He stayed in his chair, petting Hamish thoughtfully.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas had heard them arguing and he couldn't stop himself from all the tears. Maybe if he ran away everything would be okay. He had slipped out of the room when his parents had been distracted and out the front door. He was certain Mrs. Hudson had seen him but maybe she wouldn't tell on him. He was running blindly down the sidewalk, tears still streaming down his face.

The black car slowed down beside the running boy, the window rolling down. "Oi, Thomas!" Lestrade poked his head out the window. "Want to come to our house for a bit?" The car stopped and he got out, moving to cut the boy off the best he could. "Thomas, what's wrong?"

Thomas threw himself around Lestrade almost immediately in a tight hug. Besides Sherlock, the Detective Inspector was the one person who he was particularly attached to. He wanted to grow up to be just like Uncle Gregory. He wanted to work for the Yard and solve crimes and fire people like Anderson.

"You are all right now," Lestrade muttered as he picked Thomas up with a small groan. "You have grown a bit," he said with a soft laugh, climbing into the back of the car. It was best to get him off the streets as soon as possible. Everybody but Thomas knew the dangers of the boy being alone. Granted, it had been nearly three years since he had been rescued but they all tried to play it safe.

Thomas nodded and clung to his favorite uncle's arm. "Got in a fight at school today," a sniffle, "and when we got home Dad started yelling at Daddy about stuff…and…" He trailed off with a shrug and another sniffle.

"Daddies fight sometimes, mate. That's how it is. They weren't yelling about you or at you, I am sure." Lestrade smiled and used his free hand to ruffle the boy's hair. "How about we make spaghetti for dinner tonight? I happen to know it is your favorite." He grinned, chuckled, and looked at his nephew. "Also, I know the boy you are talking about and I think he is a tad afraid of you after today," he said like it was a big secret.

Thomas looked up at his uncle with wide eyes. "Really? He's just so mean! He says mean things to me and about my daddies! And…and…he's just a stupid jerk who deserves to die!" He bit down on his lip hard but it was too late, the words had already slipped out. Was he going to go to jail now? "I didn't mean…I…he just…" The words tumbled out of his mouth so quickly he couldn't form a coherent thought.

Lestrade composed himself, looking down at Thomas with a lop-sided smile. "Oi, we don't ever wish that on people, yeah? You can say he is mean, which he is, but you don't ever say that." He squeezed the boy's hand, yanked him a bit closer to comfort him. "I am sure your daddies will take care of the problem and if not I know for a fact Uncle Mycroft will." The family was going to comfort Thomas the best they could. "Can you promise me no fights? If you go a month without one I will let you come into my office for a few hours. You'll be like a real-life Detective Inspector."

"Sorry Uncle Gregory," Thomas muttered. He pouted a moment before looking back up at Lestrade with big eyes. "Really? Please? Oh, please oh please oh please!" He clawed a bit at his uncle's shirt in excitement before he finally calmed down. "Dad wants me to play rugby but I don't want to really. I am afraid if I say no, I'll disappoint him. I like singing but that's a sissy girly thing and just one more reason for that prat to pick on me."

Lestrade grinned as the car came to a stop in front of the Holmes manor, a place they had decided to stay and call home. "You like singing?" He asked softly, clearly curious at the statement. "Have you told your Daddy that? Perhaps you two could make a song with his violin?" He opened the door and let Thomas slide out before him, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the front door. "How about I talk to Dad for you? If you don't want to play rugby then we shouldn't force you to."

Thomas always loved coming to the manor. It was so big and cool. So many neat things to see. It was like a new adventure every time he came. He shook his head. "Daddy and Dad don't know. They are always busy working or paying attention to Amy to notice me. Dad says they don't love her more, but…" He trailed off with a shrug. He had just got done crying and he refused to keep doing it. He sniffled and shrugged again. "If I play rugby, will Dad love me more?" He looked up at his uncle with moist eyes.

"Mate..." Lestrade picked Thomas up with a smile, holding him close. "They love you more than you will ever know. Do you know how many times your Dad texts me and says how proud he is of you? How you constantly amaze him? Want to see one?" He pulled his mobile from his pocket and pulled up John's message conversation. "This was from two days ago." He held it up for Thomas.

_He was singing in the shower tonight. Sounds a bit like you. Know anybody who can do singing lessons or something like that? Think it might make him happy. Saw his grades today, too. Smart just like Sherlock. Want a crime solver? Think I found the next Chief. -JW_

"See? That's is from your Dad. I am pretty sure he is all right with you singing and he never texts me like that with things about Amy." Lestrade put the mobile away. "If you choose not to play rugby then Dad will be fine."

Thomas read the text over and over again. He had to resist the urge to pull the mobile close to his chest and hug it. He hugged Lestrade instead. "Uncle Gregory, I love you. You are the best uncle in the whole world." After the hug he followed his uncle into the manor, running to give his grandma a hug. She was the nicest lady he had ever met. Although when he first met her, he thought her to be scary.

"Best uncle in the world? That hurts my feelings." Mycroft came around the corner, Siger stumbling after him in excitement. The little boy was just a bit older than Amy. Short brown hair, much in the style of Lestrade's, and the brightest green eyes.

"'Mas?" Siger squeaked excitedly, tugging at his Dad's trousers. Mycroft looked down at him and nodded, watching the little boy scamper through the foyer to try and tackle his older nephew.

Thomas dropped his gaze when he hear his other uncle speak. "I…uh…" He kicked at the floor lamely but when he saw Siger running at him, he smiled. He fell dramatically from the 'tackle' and held onto his cousin so the smaller boy could land safely on top of him. He laughed and tickled Siger's stomach.

Siger giggled and forced himself away from Thomas's arms, looking at him with a wide grin. "'Mas! Wanna play? Les' go play!" He stood up, his socks sliding on the clean wood floor, as he darted toward the garden in the back yard. Lestrade watched before looking at his husband, a lop-sided smile on his face.

"You two be careful, don't break anything," Mycroft stated with a warm smile before his gaze was passed off to Nancy. "Suspended for a week," he muttered. "Fighting because a kid was making fun of him for John and Sherlock being married. Singing lessons?" He glanced at Lestrade who merely rolled his eyes and walked off toward the kitchen.

Thomas gave a dismissive wave at Mycroft and ran after Siger, pretending to have trouble keeping up and lagging behind the little boy slightly.

Nancy narrowed her eyes a moment. "People really need to sod off," she muttered. She soon smiled. "Singing? Thomas? Does he want to take lessons? I'm sure I can get him a wonderful instructor to tutor him privately."

Mycroft smirked a bit at Nancy before watching Lestrade go into the kitchen and grab a beer. "We have got quite the tutor under our roof. Gregory is actually a fantastic singer and I think he woud do a wonderful job of giving Thomas singing lessons," he said proudly. Lestrade shook his head but smiled, clearly going to accept that challenge. "He is very comfortable with my husband as it is. Why not?"

Nancy smiled and clapped her hands together once in excitement. "Oh that would be wonderful! Gregory, would you do that for Thomas? I am sure he would love it and he is already quite fond of you already!"

Lestrade smiled and looked at his husband. "Oh, you are paying me back for this," he said to Mycroft, who merely winked. "Mum, it wouldn't be a problem. I don't really sing all that much but it shouldn't be a problem. I will see what I can do." He smiled at his mother-in-law and leaned into Mycroft, eagerly accepting the arm around his shoulders.

Nancy smiled at her sons. "Good. It would do the boy some good I think. Give him something to do that his is passionate about. I am going to check on the children. The last time they played in my garden, the gardener spent a weak replanting everything in their path."

* * *

John knocked once more. "Thomas?" After a long beat of silence he opened the door, standing still in the doorway before going to pick up Amy. "Sherlock?" He returned to the living room with Amy crying on his shoulder, face red and stuffed dog shoved against John's chest. "He has gone and run off," he stated softly as he bounced on the balls of his feet to try and calm their daughter down. "What now? He thinks we are mad at him."

Great. One more thing to worry about. Sherlock sighed. "Knowing my brother, he has probably already picked up Thomas." He withdrew his mobile and sent a text to Mycroft.

_If Thomas happens your way within the next three to five minutes, let me know. – SH_

If he didn't hear anything from his older brother by then, he would go out and look for their son.

John glanced at Amy with a small smile when she fell back asleep, thumb wedged in her mouth. "Oi, bad habit," he whispered with a bit of a frown, gently pulling it from her mouth and earning a disgruntled noise in her sleep. He glanced at his husband before turning to lay her back down. As he shut the door he just stood at the top of the stairs, going down slowly and staring at his husband. "What are we doing wrong, Sherlock?" He asked weakly, clearly looking defeated.

_Uncle Gregory has already been deployed. We have found him. Going to keep him here for a bit. -MH_

Sherlock snorted a bit as he read the text from Mycroft and then turned his attention to John. "Nothing. Thomas is just upset. Uncle _Gregory_ ," it never failed to be funny to him, "picked him up. He will stay over there for bit. Play with Siger." That was still weird to think about. "He hasn't seen his uncles or younger cousin in awhile, so maybe it will do him some good." He gave his husband a small reassuring smile. "Come here Love." He picked up Hamish and set the cat on the floor so John could sit on his lap, or preferably straddle him. They couldn't do much with Amy sleeping nearby but maybe he could distract his husband with snogging.

John let his shoulders fall forward, a frown etched on his lips. They were ghastly parents, weren't they? At least with two children. Thomas thought they favored Amy but she was younger. Naturally she needed more attention. He sighed and walked toward his husband, slowly straddling him. "I am a rubbish father," he muttered as he lowered his mouth to Sherlock's neck and gently sucked on it, one hand yanking his husband's shirt from his trousers and easily sliding under it to scratch gently at his skin. "Thomas deserves better than me."

"Well, if you are a rubbish father than I guess I am too. We are both raising Thomas, so it is both our responsibility." Scratching. God, John was scratching him _and_ sucking on his neck. Sherlock couldn't help the small moan as he tilted his head back so his husband could have more access. At this rate he was certain he would get an erection in no time.

Decent distraction. John smiled a bit and pulled his mouth away from Sherlock's neck with a 'pop.' "We haven't shagged in six days," he muttered against his husband's skin, biting his bottom lip. It had been quite the six days of solving a private case that, honestly, was a shock for Sherlock to even take. A cheating wife, a family that came from wealth. At some point, a point where John had completely lost track of the case, it had apparently got interesting to the point where the last three nights he had spent the night alone in bed. "You going to sleep in the bed tonight?" He asked desperately.

Sherlock smiled deviously. "I think I could be talked into that. We could let Thomas stay over with his uncles and maybe get Mrs. Hudson to watch little Sandi for awhile. Once Amy finishes her nap, we could have the night to ourselves?" He raised his eyebrows hopefully. Maybe they would do one of those role plays. They still hadn't done John's fantasy and it was something he thought about from time to time but a case would always distracted him.

"Good," John muttered in a rush, his hand moving roughly up Sherlock's shirt to pinch a nipple between his fingers. "Idea?" He muttered as he pressed his nose harshly against his husband's neck before he sucked on the skin again. God, he wanted Sherlock _now_. Amy's nap wouldn't be over for another hour or so. Obviously, once they were done, Amy would come back to the flat. It was weak but John was fairly sure he couldn't go a night without both of the children in the flat. He was hesitant about letting Thomas stay with Mycroft and Lestrade, even.

Wait. They were going to have to wait. Sherlock wasn't sure he could wait any longer. Not with John doing wonderful things to his body. He was already getting an erection and he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips. Ideas? Oh right. Should he share his initial thought? "I have been wanting to play out your fantasy since you told me about it, but we really haven't had time for games with having a family and work. Do you think we will have time for it tonight?"

Oh, that would be _wonderful_. John moaned and pulled his mouth away from Sherlock's neck, looking down at his husband through half-open eyes. "Please," he whispered with a nod, pressing their foreheads together. "Good. I want that. There is the alley behind the building. Needs to be outside," he added. He wanted to have his husband's cock in his mouth _now_. It was going to be rough and perfect. Then he would get to have Sherlock to snuggle against in bed at the end of the night if they didn't have some freak case pop up.

"Yes, oh God yes. I have missed the foreplay ever since we did my one fantasy. Fuck, that had been amazing." Sherlock moaned as his thoughts ran rampant. His cock continued to get hard and he pressed up into John with a whimper. Shit. Waiting though. He had gotten himself all worked up and all he wanted to do was shag his husband. Maybe snogging could distract him for a bit. He pressed his lips to John's with a desperate and sloppy kiss.

John moaned into the kiss and eagerly returned it. Sloppy. God, Sherlock's sloppy kisses were his favorite. He pressed his own erection into his husband's stomach lightly. It was tough to wait but he had to. Scarring their daughter for life, especially this early in her childhood, might not end well for them. "'B-'bout an hour," he muttered as he pulled away from the kiss to take a hesitant breath, his chest heaving in excitement. They had gone this far, might as well tease Sherlock a little more. "Want you to fuck my mouth. God, I want you to hold my head and pull my hair and make me gag, please?" He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to meet Sherlock's gaze.

Sherlock whimpered at the thought. "Lasted an hour when you were my Pet. And that had been amazing. Tease me more? Work me all up?" The thought sent a shiver of excitement through his body. He wiggled his body into his husband's. His arms finally enveloped John in a hug, his hands sliding up the jumper easily to scratch at the skin lightly.

"Want you to u-aaah." John closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together, dropping his forehead against Sherlock's shoulder. Six days and he had turned into some whore. Just the scratching was leaving him speechless. "Want you t-to come on my face," he whispered with a small blush, keeping his eyes closed. That...was certainly something that he had never wanted to admit to Sherlock. It was something that he'd wanted to keep to himself...but it was all out of his mouth now. There was no taking that back.

Sherlock paused, unsure if he had heard John right. "You…did… _really_?" He wasn't judging his husband by any means, just a bit shocked at the statement. "Christ, why is that so hot?" He moaned at the thought. "Can…can I lick it off of you?" It didn't occur to him that most people would probably find such a statement disgusting. Another moan and he lifted his hips up into John again.

_That_ made John looked at Sherlock with wide eyes and a bit of a smile. He wanted to do that? Oh...Oh, God. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely, pressing his hips forward with a breathy moan. Ever since the riding crop fantasy they had certainly tried some new things. Interesting things. "Of course you can," he replied with another gentle thrust of his hips. "Want you to do that."

Sherlock smirked a bit and then nodded. "Oh God, John. I can't wait to go outside and fuck your mouth. And to lick my semen off of your face." He moaned at the thought. He whimpered in his excitement, his hips thrusting up into his husband again. "I love you. You are the most amazing husband ever. I am glad we got married and decided to explore our sexual habits."

At that moment John giggled, burying his face into his husband's shoulder as he tried to control his laughter. "You are perfect because what you just said would _never_ sound attractive to anybody else." He turned and placed a kiss on Sherlock's neck. "I'm so glad I married you so you couldn't use your horrid pick up lines on anybody else," he whispered before pulling away from his husband's neck to meet his gaze. "Mrs. Hudson will definitely know what we are doing."

Sherlock frowned a bit. Why was John laughing at him? "Is…that not common then?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Pick up lines? I don't use those." A pause in thought. "Do I?" A smirk finally worked its way onto his lips. "Probably. She always does."

"Sherlock, love..." John smiled and bit and studied his husband. "You want to lick your semen off my face? Just...the way you say things." He grinned, blushed, and licked his lips. "You are wonderful," a pause, "And _perfect_." He took a deep breath and relaxed against Sherlock, trying to keep his focus away from his erection. "I love you and I can't wait to have your dick in my mouth. Roughly," he mumbled into Sherlock's clothes.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and then shrugged a bit. "I am glad you make you happy." He smiled and bucked up into his husband again with a moan. "Tonight is going to be amazing Love." He moved his lips to John's neck and began sucking on it. "Just think, you will be sucking on me and I'll be thrusting up into your mouth. And then I will be licking your face, cleaning you off."

John moaned lowly, pulling his husband a bit closer with a gasp. Just words...damn, why couldn't he be so wonderfully seductive when he talked like that? "Want you to gag me, hold my head in place." He swallowed hard and shifted against Sherlock, pressing his erection into his husband several times. "I want you to talk to me. Ask me if I like it, tell me to take it." Bold. Jesus, he had never been this forward with Sherlock in his life.

Sherlock moaned at John's words, thrusting up roughly into his husband. "Yes. Oh God yes." He closed his eyes as he envisioned everything perfectly in his mind. "John…" He moaned out his husband's name. He opened his eyes again and began sucking on John's neck again. "Has it been an hour yet?" He was getting restless and all this talk was making his hard on pulse and drip. It was a wonderful feeling really. "What about you? How do you want me to get you off?"

This _was_ his fantasy after all. "Want you to lay on your back, let me use you. Legs spread, my cock against your stomach." He grinned and ran his finger nails down Sherlock's side through his shirt. "That all right? C-Can we do that?" He asked hesitantly. He liked this, being bold and not afraid to hide anything from his husband. He could get used to it. He looked down and laughed. "Christ, you are making a wet spot on your trousers," he whispered in amazement, a hand reaching down to curiously trace the bulge with his index finger.

Sherlock shivered at John's words. "That sounds wonderful Love. Before or after I fuck your mouth?" He smirked at his husband and then moaned. "Can't help it. Just thinking about all of this is making me hard and I want this so bad. Everything. All of it. It will be amazing. Your mouth around me and having you inside of me, doing whatever you want to me." He moaned again, his lips moving to John's.

"After. A-After," John whispered before returning the kiss heatedly. He pulled away the moment he heard a small cry from Thomas and Amy's bedroom, closing his eyes in order to calm himself down. "After," he repeated softly as he slid off of Sherlock, falling straight on his backside on the floor with a grunt. "I think I am too turned on to walk," he muttered as he managed to get himself to his feet, swaying slight as Amy's cries got louder.

Sherlock had never been so happy to hear their daughter crying. God, he was a terrible father wasn't he? He stumbled out of the chair after John, helping to steady his husband. "Want me to get Amy or the lubricant? Was…was there anything else you wanted to use in the alley way?" Soon. So close now. They would be in the alley way making a ridiculous amount of noise in the London night air and the thought was extremely exciting to him.

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled a bit. "I will get Amy," he said softly, standing on his toes to give his husband a quick kiss. "No lube. Just handcuffs. Don't want my arms pushing you away, would you?" He smirked, took several steps back, and finally turned to go up the stairs. After several moments Amy's cries quieted until she was talking.

"Dada, hungry. Can I has food, please?" Amy held on to her stuffed dog tightly, her thumb going straight into her mouth as John entered the kitchen and pulled a pre-made meal from the fridge.

"Of course you can, baby girl. You are going to eat dinner with Mrs. Hudson tonight," John told her, much to her delight. She grinned around her thumb and nodded as he headed down the stairs, dropped her off with a knowing glance from their landlady, and sprinted back to the flat.

No lube? Was John planning on shagging him without lubricant? God, he would be sore awhile but this was his husband's fantasy and he wasn't going to mess it up. He owed John, after how amazing his husband had been for him during his fantasy. He hurried and grabbed the handcuffs, getting the key as well just in case. He smirked when he saw John come back, twirling the handcuff around on one finger.

John nearly tripped over the last stair, stumbling into the flat with a foolish grin. Sherlock. Handcuffs. Christ, this was going to be wonderful. He moved forward, one hand curling around the back of his husband's neck to bring him down for a kiss, the other palming Sherlock through his trousers. "So hard for me already. I must be quite the tease," he whispered against his partner's lips. "I am going to go down to the crime scene. Meet me there in five minutes?" He gave Sherlock another slow kiss before turning and walking out of the flat.

Sherlock whimpered and leaned into John's hand. He whimpered again at the loss of his husband. Five more minutes? He had waited this long. Five more minutes wouldn't kill him. He sent a quick text to Mrs. Hudson saying should she turn the telly on and loud in four minutes or leave the flat with Amy for ice cream or walk in the park within the next three minutes. He fidgeted with the handcuffs a moment before he put on his coat and scarf. He had to look the part of Sherlock Holmes called to a crime scene, right? He smirked to himself, forced himself to calmly walk down the stairs and outside. He entered the alley, his eyes already taking in everything around him.


	3. Chapter 3

Without a crime scene John had a bit of trouble figuring out how to actually go about the fantasy. He had decided on saying the crime was around the corner but his thoughts were distracted the moment Sherlock came around the corner, coat and scarf completing his look. God, he was gorgeous. John looked around before shrugging. "It is around the corner but they told me to keep you out for a bit. New bloke looking at some info." Another shrug as he eyed his husband. "Think you can really solve it?"

Had he come too early? Was John not ready for him yet? Sherlock smirked at his husband. "Of course I can solve it. Who do you thinks solves most of their cases for them? It _isn't_ them, that's for sure. Now out of my way, I have things to do and you are starting to annoy me." He narrowed his eyes a bit for effect and moved to brush past John.

"Oi, mate, I said they aren't ready." John narrowed his eyes slightly and lifted a hand up to push at Sherlock's shoulder. "So you will have to wait until this other bloke is done." He puffed his chest out for emphasis. Now all he had to do was threaten Sherlock's intelligence. "Don't even think you can solve it anyway. Murders, they are complicated. Can't just walk up and see what happened. Not how it works."

"You must be new here. Now, out of my way." Sherlock never listened at crime scenes. No need to start now. "Murders are actually quite simple but someone with your small mind just wouldn't understand." He moved to brush past John once more, ramming their shoulders together roughly.

John narrowed his eyes and pushed Sherlock back with more force, a tight smirk on his lips. "No. I was given orders to keep a tall bloke with a long coat out of the crime scene until instructed." He pushed his husband again with a bit less force. "So don't talk to me like that. You can just wait here and continue to pretend you know how to solve crimes."

Sherlock growled, his eyes narrowing as well. He put his hand on John's chest and shoved his husband into the wall of the alley. He pressed his body against John's tightly, their faces only centimeters apart. "Listen, _mate_ , I don't let the Detective Inspector tell me what to do and I am certainly not going to let someone like you tell me what to do."

John grunted and narrowed his eyes, shoving Sherlock's hand off of his chest and pushing him away. "I am an actual police officer and I have got a badge to prove it. You run around and solve cases 'cause you are bored so don't even talk me." He fixed his jacket and shook his head. "So wait for a second, fake crime solver."

"God, you are worse than Anderson. I didn't think _that_ was possible. Now quit with your drivel. I am an important man on important business. I am friends personally with the Detective Inspector, and I can get you fired. Now. Let. Me. Through." He purposefully enunciated the last four words, with a clenched jaw. His eyes were still narrowed and he moved to get around John once more.

"No DI here today, just the Chief." John smirked proudly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Bit more important than anybody else, including you." The looks he was getting from Sherlock was making his knees weak and he was willing to drop the act now to get on his knees for the man in front of him. Calm. Stay collected. "Bit of a touchy one, aren't you?"

"I don't take cases for the Chief. I am done here. Good luck with your boring murder." Sherlock had to resist the urge to pounce John here and now. At least the coat hid his pulsating erection. He cleared his throat and then spun around dramatically, so the coat would flow behind him in flourish and began to walk away.

"Knew you were an idiot," John muttered and leaned back against the wall with a small snort. "Nobody is smarter than the police, not even some posh bloke in a weird coat." His eyes lifted slowly and he smirked at his husband proudly. It sounded like he had been making quite the argument and he was feeling a bit cocky.

That caused Sherlock to pause and then spin back around. He advanced on John quickly, forcing his husband back into the wall with his quick movements. His lips twisted up into a snarl. "No one talks to me like that and gets away with it!" He grabbed John by the shirt, to yank his husband forward. "I bet you I can solve the crime before the police do!"

Well, that had definitely hit a nerve. John shrugged and looked around the corner. "Pretty sure they already solved it. Murder-Suicide. Simple shit, really." He looked down at Sherlock's hands with a raised brow and cleared his throat. "Do you mind getting your hands off me? That is assaulting a police officer." He lifted a hand to gently pluck one of his husband's fingers off his shirt. "Could put you in cuffs for that."

"Is that your genius answer to everything? 'Oh look, another suicide. And well there is another body so it is a murder-suicide.' Christ, you guys are a bunch of idiots. I don't even know why I bother to keep helping you." Sherlock had to bite his lip so he wouldn't whimper at the mention of handcuffs. "You won't arrest me. You wouldn't dare." He stared down at John challengingly.

John reached between him and then blanched. Shit, Sherlock had the handcuffs. Cover it up. "Not today I won't. Bit busy," he muttered with a small shrug. "Guess I will have to wait another time to make you my bitch," he added with a small laugh. There, moving in the direction they both wanted. Or, well, at least the direction _he_ was very keen on moving toward. "Why don't you saunter off and go bug somebody else and let me waste my time on somebody who will actually follow orders."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, a slight smirk twitching to his lips. "I don't let just anyone order me around. They have to _earn_ that right." Oh God, did this mean John was going to assert authority over him? Make demands? Make him beg? He bit his lip, his resolve to stay in character crumbling slightly. No. His husband had done amazing for him and damn it he was determined to do the same. "I am staying right here. _Make_ me leave."

John growled and shoved his husband's chest with as much force as he felt comfortable with. "Sod off," he grumbled as he looked at the ground. "I will actually arrest you if you don't leave. I mean it." He kicked the ground lightly and glanced up at Sherlock, trying to keep his chin up and look as strong as possible. "I am not afraid of you. Least intimidating person I have seen in my life."

"Bit hard to arrest someone when your handcuffs have been nicked." Sherlock smirked, his eyes gleaming. He pulled out the handcuffs and waved them around in front of John's face. He wasn't holding onto them tightly. He was hoping he could taunt his husband into snatching him out of his hand. He was certainly eager for things to begin. Would John draw things out? Like he had during their last sexual role play? His body couldn't help but squirm in anticipation.

John growled, narrowed his eyes, and snatched the handcuffs. What did he do now? The intention had been to get handcuffed himself but now...now he was a bit stuck. He rolled his head to each side before looking around. "You don't want to go to jail, mate. Not a nice place. I suggest you leave before I do have to arrest you. I have given you, what? Three warnings?" He reached forward and roughly grabbed Sherlock's wrist, holding the handcuffs over it.

Shit, there was a reason John had wanted him to have the handcuff wasn't there? Had he messed up his husband's fantasy? Damn it. Just focus. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and with his free hand punched at John's ribs. He pulled it, so it would do less lasting damage but probably still leave his husband winded and then hopefully give him the upper hand and he would be able to get the handcuffs back.

Jesus, that had been unexpected. John doubled over, the handcuffs slipping from his grasp in favor of clutching at his side. "The fuck?" He muttered as he stood up, blue eyes narrowed. "That actually is assaulting a police officer, you bloody idiot," he growled as he glanced at the ground. Oh, he'd dropped them. His eyes lifted slowly to Sherlock and dropped quickly back to the ground. Calm. Don't make too sudden of a movement. He straightened his posture before dropping instantly to his knees and grabbing blindly for the handcuffs.

Sherlock smirked and bent to get the handcuffs first. "If I am going to get arrested it might as well be for a good reason. I don't like to half arse anything. And I told you, I don't do anything just because some bloke with a power trip and badge tells me to. You haven't done _anything_ to get me to listen to anything you say."

John clenched his jaw, looking up at Sherlock from his position on the ground. "I could have you arrested for obstructing justice, assaulting a police officer," he muttered hotly, a definite red spreading across his cheeks. "I could just make up a charge, make you look horrible," he paused a smirked, "I mean, worse than you already do, running around like some psychopath." There. Hitting more nerves. This was about to get very wonderful. "Give me my handcuffs back."

Sherlock sneered at John. "No. You want them. Come and get them." He taunted his husband again by shaking them in John's face, but keeping a firm grip on them this time. "I am a high functioning sociopath, do your research." He put his face in his husband's. "I have got connections you know. High up in the government. My brother would never let me sit in jail for any amount of time." That was never a card he pulled when on a case, mainly because he was too arrogant and cocky to ever accept that kind of help. But damn it, John knew all the right things to say to rile him up.

"Right, whatever." John reached for the handcuffs, yanking down but frowning when they didn't budge. His eyes shot up instantly and he exhaled shakily. From his point of view on the ground he could see his husband's erection pressing against his trousers. Jesus. "Bet he would after I told him you got off on just arguing with me," he whispered lowly, a smirk forming slowly on his lips. Perfect. This was something he could handle. He gently leaned his head forward, opening his mouth over what he assumed would be the tip of his husband's penis, and closed his lips around it with a short hum.

Oh God. Sherlock's knees buckled and he had to use the wall to support himself. Stay in character. Christ it was hard. He _was_ hard. And John's mouth. Focus. "So, I get off on arguing? What's it too you? You are the one trying to suck my dick. You could have at least asked first, you know? Apparently you have never been taught manners. Maybe I should give you a lesson in them." He clicked open the handcuffs with his thumb, leaning down further to grab his husband's wrist and lock it into place.

A small grin twitched at the edges of John's mouth before he pulled away from Sherlock's trousers, narrowing his eyes the best he could. "Oi, you're the one practically flaunting it in my face," he muttered with a shrug. "What was I supposed to do? Let you ruin the front of your posh trousers?" He leaned forward again, tugging his wrist away from Sherlock's grasp and mouthing at his husband's cock again. His partner _had_ wanted teasing, why not give it to him?

"Well if you are going to do it, at least do it right. Here. Let me help you." Sherlock thrust his hips forward roughly and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. The hand holding the handcuffs moved back to the wall to help hold him in place. He was having a hard time keeping a grip on them. On staying focused. On doing anything really. His trousers weren't even off yet. He whimpered at the thought, eyes closing.

Fuck. Yes. John had wanted that for quite a while. He grunted, a bit surprised, and pulled away with a bit of regret. There was still a role to keep to and he was fairly sure any police officer wouldn't exactly like a rough thrust to the face. "Don't put your dick in my face like that," he snapped despite the glint of excitement in his gaze. "I am not some bloody blow up doll you hide in your closet."

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down John with a smirk. "Well, maybe that will teach you not to suck some bloke's dick you just met. Like I said, if you are going to do it then at least do it right. So either keep sucking and accept what I give you or get lost." He was standing again, trying to look dignified and not squirming like a horny teenager.

What a perfect time to turn the tables. John couldn't help but smirk, the handcuffs clinking behind his back as his hands moved, still free. "Make me," he whispered proudly, tugging his bottom lip between his mouth. The talking was making his hips move forward marginally and he couldn't help it. Sherlock knew what he was doing, that much was certain.

Sherlock smirked at John's words. "Oh. You want it then? I see. I just have to work for it, hm?" He glanced around briefly before he removed his coat, the bulge obvious through his trousers now. He unzipped them to expose his erection. He shivered in excitement. He was hoping to distract his husband long enough to get the handcuff around John's wrist before his partner knew what was happening.

What he had been waiting for since they had started talking. Jesus. John closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard before he leaned forward. More teasing. That was something he certainly didn't mind. He ignored Sherlock's penis with skill, pressing a gentle kiss against his husband's hip bone, his teeth nipping slightly at the skin. "Just wanted to see it. Not much more I can do for you, I am afraid," he whispered against his partner's skin as he continued to run his lips along Sherlock's hip and waist.

Sherlock whimpered his knees giving out on him again. John was doing a much better job at distracting him than he was his husband. The handcuffs hung limply in his hand for awhile as he tried to compose himself. "Like what you see, I am guessing?" He was leaking again, he could feel it. It was sliding down his hard on and it tingled in the most magnificent fashion. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something? Oh right. Get the handcuffs on John. He reached down to grab his husband's wrist and clasp the cuffs into place.

John had moved to lick whatever he could from Sherlock's penis but he was distracted by the noise and feeling of the handcuffs. "The...Hell do you think you're doing?" He nearly snapped, looking up sharply with wide eyes. Good. Still in character. "You think I am some sort of little fuck toy? Unlock these this instant," he demanded in a loud whisper so no attention would be drawn to the alley.

Sherlock moaned when John licked him. What? Oh. Right. The handcuffs. He was doing a horrible job at focusing, wasn't he? Was he ruining this for his husband? Stay in character. He smirked down at John. "You told me to make you, remember? I am going to do just that." The smirk got bigger and there was gleam to his eyes. "You are going to finish what you started. I am going to fuck your mouth hard. Teach you manners. Then I will unlock you." Should he cuff John's other hand behind his back? Maybe put the other on his wrist? Hadn't John supposed to bound by them completely? Sod it. He placed the other cuff over his own wrist. "There. Now we are stuck together. Start sucking."

John eyed their handcuffed wrists and rolled his eyes, sitting back on his heels with a smirk. "Think that is all it takes? So we're stuck together. I could stand up," he muttered with a shrug, glancing around the alley in the most bored fashion he could muster. It was hard to not look at Sherlock, to admire everything in front of him, but he managed. He had to or the fantasy would turn to rubbish. "I am not going to suck you off because you told me to and my mouth isn't going to get fucked," he stated defiantly, an eyebrow raised as he looked up at Sherlock. "Not going to suck you off."

"Oh, I will make you. You were so eager before. I know you want it. You want to taste me inside your mouth. Making you gag as you swallow my whole cock as I ram it down your throat." His own words made him shiver in excitement. He could feel more juice squirting out and running down the length of his erection. God at this rate, he was going to get himself off just fantasizing about John sucking him. He yanked on the cuffs roughly, hoping to pull his husband toward his cock. He ignored the biting sensation of the metal digging into his wrist.

John turned his head sharply, wincing when his cheek smacked again Sherlock's hip. Fuck, that had hurt a bit and...he _definitely_ had pre-cum smeared across his cheek. That was way hotter than it should be. He looked up with a crooked smile, ignoring his own cock as it twitched from his husband's words. Too hot. This was his fantasy coming to life and Sherlock was doing amazing. "Not doing anything but talking, mate," he whispered as he pressed his cheek against Sherlock's erection to smear more pre-cum on his skin.

Sherlock moaned and he yanked up on the cuffs to pull John to a standing position. "Hold still. Think you got a little something on your face. Let me get that for you." He leaned down and ran his tongue along his husband's cheek. He whimpered at his own taste, nipping lightly at John's skin. He pressed his erection against his husband's body as another moan escaped his lips.

John stumbled slightly but closed his eyes, moaning softly as he reached between them to gently stroke his husband. Never in his life would he have thought he would be in an alley begging to have a man's erection rammed into his mouth. But now that he was here, with everything happening, he felt like he couldn't control himself. It was all too wonderful and the fact that Sherlock was doing it for him, complying with his rather embarrassing request, made it all better. "Acting like a dog. You are a bit of a whore, aren't you?" He whispered.

Sherlock continued to lick John's face until it was clean. "Not half bad, you know?" He pulled away with a smirk. "So what if I am? There is nothing wrong with having a healthy sexual appetite. I am going to have you suck my dick and then come all over your face and lick you clean again. What do you think about that?" He glanced down at his husband's hand and back up to John. "So far, you seem to be liking it. You will stroke me but not suck me off? Not much of a difference really. Come on, you know you want to. You know you want to deep throat me. Gag on me. Taste me." He had moved his lips to whisper seductively into his husband's ear.

"F-Fuck…" John's hand faltered and he slowly pulled away, panting into Sherlock's neck as he tried to keep his own hips still. This was a bit harder than he thought it would be. "I-I think you would have to make me do it, I am not into things like that." There. God, he just wanted Sherlock to push him, to pull his hair and use him like some sort of whore he found while he was bored. He didn't know what, it was hard to explain, but he just couldn't contain himself. "Sod off," he said weakly as he opened his eyes and met his husband's gaze.

Sherlock continued to whisper into John's ear encouragingly. "It is okay. Don't be afraid. I know you want it. I wouldn't have offered it otherwise. Just say yes. Give into it. You want it. You want me." His fingers trailed along his husband's arm. His voice turned dark suddenly and he grip on John's arm tightened. "But since you want me make you. _I will_." He brought both hands to his husband's shoulder and pushed down roughly so his partner would get on his knees, his fingers digging in harshly to the fabric of John's shirt.

John wanted to moan but, God, the role...bloody character shit. He looked up, not able to hide the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Perfect. He was panting, mouth slightly open, as he glanced at Sherlock's hand digging into his shirt. "Best shirt I own, better not rip it," he said weakly, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He had turned to putty in Sherlock's grasp and couldn't help it. "W-Want it," he finally admitted, his eyes locked on his husband's erection. "Yes."

Sherlock smirked wickedly. "Good, I knew you did. Now stop talking and start sucking." He thrust his hips forward quickly, trying to shove his cock into John's mouth forcefully. God, he hoped this was okay. But this is what his husband had wanted right? One hand stayed on John's shoulder to hold his husband in place, pressing down roughly and his fingers still burrowing in. He let the uncuffed one move to John's head and yanked on any hair long enough.

John opened his mouth just in time, slamming his eyes shut at every sensation he was feeling. Fingers rough into his shoulder, his hair being pulled...and then he gagged, coughing around his husband's penis as he took several quick breaths through his nose. That was what he had wanted for a long time. He could taste Sherlock no matter how hard he tried not to. Right in the back of his throat. He gagged again, coughing a bit and pushing back against his husband's hand. No way to move back. He opened one eye and winked. It was going to be quite the wonderful experience, wasn't it?

Sherlock's eyes closed, completely missing the wink. He moaned, biting his lip to prevent it from being too loud and drawing attention to them. "Yes, just like that." He thrust into John again with another muffled moan. "Take it. Suck me off. Taste me all the way down to your throat." He continued his rough thrusts into his husband's mouth. He pulled the hair harder in his excitement with a growl. The hand on John's shoulder moved and began scratching at his husband's neck, leaving red marks almost immediately.

John felt the tip of his nose touch Sherlock's body with each thrust, a small cough accompanying each movement of his husband's body. He couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock said this to himself in his head when they shagged normally because, Christ he had _seriously_ underestimated the man's dirty talk. His free hand moved hesitantly to scratch at Sherlock's stomach while he moaned around his partner's cock at the scratching. Rough. So fantastically rough. He gagged twice and slammed his eyes shut.

Oh God. John was scratching him. Sherlock had been hard awhile now and he somehow remembered to pull out before he came. His hand scratching at his husband's chest moved down to make sure his cock so it would aim right, his knees bending a bit so his arm could reach due to the handcuff. His semen squirted out and splattered on John's face as he let out a low and long moan. He yanked up on the handcuffs again, to pull his husband back up so he could begin licking up the mess on his partner's face.

John just stood, swaying on his feet and panting as he kept his eyes shut. Holy... "Fuck," he whispered as he leaned heavily against Sherlock, letting his partner clean the mess off in quite the erotic way. He groaned and turned his head a bit, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. Sod the mess, it could wait. His ultimate fantasy about Sherlock, one he'd had before they had even become romantically involved, had just happened. He wanted a bloody kiss. "Thank you," he whispered as he chanced opening one eye.

Sherlock returned the kiss eagerly, his tongue moving to into John's mouth for a moment. He smirked in response to his husband. He moved his lips back to his partner's face. His tongue moved along the skin slowly and languidly. He moved the hand at his side, palming John through his trousers. The other hand was still in his husband's hair but not pulling now just scratching lightly.

John felt his hand move when Sherlock started palming him through his trousers. Fuck, he was almost too tired to give in to his husband's advances. That had exhausted him to the point where his legs were wobbly. He was leaning heavily against Sherlock. "Mmph," he muttered, his free hand clutching at Sherlock's shirt tightly. "Good."

Sherlock could tell John was tired and smiled down softly at his husband. "Want me to just finish you off with a hand job my Love?" He dropped his head to nuzzle into John's ear gently. He continued the light palming through the trousers and his other hand scratched combed through his husband's hair. "You can shag me hard another time if you want." He hadn't brought any lubricant anyway and he still hadn't decided if that had been purposeful or an oversight by John. Shit, he had totally broken character. Would his husband be pissed? Had he just ruined John's fantasy?

John grinned slightly, keeping his eyes closed as he turned his head. "Didn't bring the lubricant because I was going to keep my trousers on," he whispered with a laugh. "Wanted to just rut against you. Seemed damn sexy to me." He leaned heavier against Sherlock with a groan of appreciation. The hand in his hair was certainly a wonderful feeling and one he would never tire of. "I assume we should be getting our family back together. We need to talk to Thomas," his voice hitched slightly and his hips pressed slowly into his husband's hand.

"Thought you wanted to shag me with my legs spread and everything." Sherlock smirked down at John and kissed the top of his head. "At least let me finish you off Love." He undid the trousers and began a swift and steady pace on John's penis.

That was it for John. He felt his knees buckle and he collapsed against Sherlock with a soft, tired moan. It didn't take him long to come, breathing heavily as his feet struggled for purchase on the ground. "Too much," he said with a laugh, still trying to stand. "'M ready for bed."

Sherlock smirked and supported John easily, wiping his hand on the wall behind them. He fished the key out of his pocket with his free hand and undid the cuff connected to his husband. He gathered his coat quickly and then helped John back to the flat once they had their trouser back on. "How about we get Thomas in the morning. Have a family breakfast. You know how he loves to spend time at the manor. We can lay in bed and cuddle. I will put little Sandi down for the night." He kissed the top of his husband's head again, as he lead John to their bed. "How does that sound Love?"

"Good. Sounds good." John smiled weakly and stood beside the bed, swaying on his feet as he pulled his shirt off, then his jeans. "Sleep. Sorry, love you." He climbed into bed and started his natural habit of sleeping without Sherlock. Too tired to focus on the fact that his husband was in the room with him. He grabbed Sherlock's pillow, crawled to his side of the bed, and tightly curled his body around his husband's pillow. "Night then."

Sherlock smiled and pulled the covers over John before walking down to Mrs. Hudson's flat to get Amy. He thanked her multiple times, bouncing little Sandi up and down in one arm on the way back to the children's room. Hamish had followed him and jumped into Amy's bed. The cat had taken a liking to the little girl right away and was rather close and protective of the child. He kissed her forehead, told her bed time story and put her down in the bed.

Amy squirmed slightly, looking up at Sherlock for a long moment. She reached a hand out and grabbed one of Sherlock's fingers. "Papa, love you," she said, finishing with a yawn. "Good Papa." At that, and a gentle smile, she rolled into her stuffed animal, promptly falling asleep.

John shuffled toward Sherlock, eyes half open. "No case. Sleep with me," he muttered, standing in the doorway and looking up toward Thomas and Amy's bedroom. "Want to snuggle," he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and yanking slightly at his red pants to make sure they stayed up.

Sherlock kissed her forehead again with a smile. "I know you do Baby Girl. I love you too." He ran a hand through her hair briefly and gently as he watched her sleeping a moment. He watched as Hamish walked up to little Sandi, purring quietly and curled near the back of her knees. God, was it weird he could just stay and watch his daughter sleep forever? What? Was John talking? Right. Cuddling. He left the children's room quietly; closing the door but leaving it open a crack.

"Coming Love," Sherlock replied quietly. When he reached his husband, he interlocked their arms and steered John back to bed. He finally removed the handcuff still attached to him and put the key and cuffs on the night stand. He stripped naked quickly and grabbed a pair of his husband's boxers to sleep in before crawling into bed and snuggling in next to John. He turned so his nose was pressed against the back of his husband's neck and an arm thrown over his partner's stomach. "Love you," he murmured into the warm skin. He hadn't slept or eaten in almost a week and it wasn't until he laid down he realized how tired he was. He promptly feel asleep against John, body completely relaxed and at ease.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken several hours but Amy finally woke up with a sniffle. Bad dreams were never nice. She grabbed her stuffed dog and slid from the bed, waiting for Hamish to follow her before she made her way to her parent's bedroom. She climbed on to the bed, crawling easily over Sherlock and looking up at her Daddy. "Bad dream, Dada," she whispered.

John opened one eye with a small sigh and smile, lifting his arm up and letting Amy crawl under it. "Back to sleep, Baby Girl," he whispered as he placed a kiss in her blonde hair. He smiled at the feeling of Sherlock's warm breath against the back of his neck. He was wide awake now but it was all right. The feeling of Sherlock sleeping behind him was nice and watching Amy sleep was just was wonderful.

Sherlock slept right through Amy crawling into the bed with them and Hamish sprawling out on his face and neck. He was exhausted completely and he slept until just slightly nine in the morning. He groaned as he woke up slowly, the cat's flickering tail just at his nose finally registering. If Hamish was here that meant little Sandi was too. Probably had a nightmare again. He wasn't really awake still and he groaned again, closing his eyes but he didn't fall back asleep. He just felt like being lazy. Oh right. Thomas. Family breakfast. The thought made him groan a third time. It wasn't the first and it probably wouldn't be the last time he hated being an adult sometimes.

"Well good morning to you, too," John said softly, his hand moving back to gently scratch at the part of Sherlock's thigh he could reach. "We have company, as I am sure you have already realized." There was a pause and a ruffle of sheets.

"Oi, Dada!" Amy's head popped up, her hair rumpled and sticking out in every direction. "Tryin'a sleep," she mumbled as she rubbed at her eyes and smiled sleepily at Sherlock. "Go be lovey somewheres eltse," she added before curling back into John's chest.

"Oh. Morning Love." His voice was muffled, largely due to the fact that the part of his face that wasn't covered by a cat was still buried into John's neck. "Hamish, off please." The cat nipped his ear but stalked off to curl down at his feet. He finally lifted his head to look down at their daughter. He smiled and gave his husband a quick kiss on the lips. He noticed the time on the digital clock on the stand. They had all slept in today. Things were usually up and going around six at the flat, just to get Thomas to school on time.

John kept his focus on Amy, continually running his fingers gently through her hair. "I assume our other child will be back soon," he whispered with a half smile. It faltered and his hand stilled, his brow creased in thought. "Do you think we ignore Thomas in favor of her? I mean, I can't help it. She is younger, almost three...she needs a bit more attention. I never want him to think I am ignoring him." He finally looked at his husband.

Sherlock dropped his head back against the pillow with a small sigh. "Originally I thought we could go pick him up and have breakfast but I slept much more than usual. Anyway, I don't know. Her birthday is coming up soon, so we have been planning that. I guess we've been more focused on her. We will just have to try a little harder with Thomas now, yeah?"

"We will. I don't want him to feel forgotten or unloved," John whispered, his voice shaking a bit. "I promised myself I would never be like that." After a pause he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on Amy's forehead, his hand moving to her lower back so he could keep her close to his chest. "We can still pick him up and go for breakfast, place down the street serves it all day. You know how he enjoys pancakes and syrup like a certain someone." The statement made John turn slightly to look at Sherlock, a smile on his face.

"I don't want to be that kind of parent either. I have been on the receiving end. I don't want him to end up hating and resenting us." Sherlock refrained from adding like he did with his father. "He probably already ate at the manor but I am sure he will want to eat again. That boy still has an insatiable appetite. Is it…normal for a boy to eat so much at his age? I mean he's still just as skinny when we first met him, well Thomas has a bit more tone now of course. I was skinny at that age too but I never really ate." A pause. "Do you think…he has an eating disorder? Bulimia? It is usually a problem with girls and not boys and I haven't noticed anything irregular about his eating habits. Would he do that to get attention?" He frowned at the thought. He was turning out to be a terrible father, wasn't he?

God, there were so many things to think about now. "I don't know. I ate a lot like that at his age...granted, I was playing rugby so I _needed_ to eat that much." John bit his bottom lip as Amy turned a bit with a small squeak. "We shouldn't talk to him with Amy there but I want to take her to breakfast, she hasn't eaten yet," he muttered as he gently moved to lay on his back so he could talk to his husband easier. Amy came with him, resting happily on top of his bare chest. "He likes singing. I have heard him in the shower a lot. Should we get him into lessons or something?"

Sherlock shifted slightly, his head coming to lay on John's shoulder. "We can talk to him when little Sandi goes down for a nap after lunch. Singing? Really? Maybe we could. If he wanted to. I thought you were going to try to get him into rugby? If he likes to sing, maybe I can find time between cases and play my violin while he sings? I wonder if that is something he would like? You know, when he gets to be teenager he won't want us around at all." He smirked slightly at the thought.

"Not going to force him to play rugby if he would rather sing," John muttered as he tilted his head to kiss Sherlock's forehead. "He asked me yesterday on the ride from the school if it was all right if he liked girls," he whispered. Sherlock deserved to know what they had discussed, they were both parents. It had nearly broken his heart yesterday when he had talked with Thomas. "He is so smart, Sherlock. He's...God, he's so much like you." He curled his fingers to gently scratch at Amy's back.

Sherlock arched a brow. "Thomas likes girls? Is it normal to be curious at that age? And of course it is okay if he likes girls. Why wouldn't it be?" As soon as he asked it dawned him. "Oh right. Of course. Like me? You think so? Well, I am pretty sure he has his heart set on being like Uncle _Gregory_ , when he grows up."

"Well, probably because he has two Dads," John replied with a bit of a smile. "Kids in school have told him that he can't like girls because of us. Now he thinks it is wrong." His mouth twisted to the side. Raising children had been so much more difficult. It was hard to protect them from the view of others outside of 221B. "He's smart, Sherlock. If he wants to be just like Lestrade, why not? I am not going to tell him no. You are a genius and you practically work for the Yard."

"What? I hate people John…" Sherlock trailed off with a sigh. "I don't think there is anything wrong with him wanting to work for the Yard like Lestrade. He would be brilliant at it. Hell, the boy is already smarter than Anderson. Not that, that's hard." He gave his husband a faint smirk. "Should we start getting ready, or let Baby Girl sleep a bit more?"

John lifted his head a bit and looked at their daughter, his lips twitching into a soft smile. She looked adorable when she slept. Thumb shoved in her mouth, blonde hair up in every direction. It twisted his gut to see a spiting image of himself. "I don't know," he whispered as he moved some hair out of her face. "Don't want Thomas to think we forgot about him," he added as Amy stirred, slowly opening her eyes and tiredly studying Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled at little Sandi. "Hey Baby Girl, do you want to go see Thomas?" That should wake her a little more quickly. She pretty much idolized her older brother and thought she could do everything he did. Hamish got up, stretched, walked on Sherlock to get to Amy and began licking her hair and ear as a deep purr rumbled from his chest. "I think Hamish might want some attention before we go though." He smiled. Perfect start to the day right here, even if he had slept in.

Amy squealed at the feeling of Hamish licking her, giggling and moving to wrap her arm tightly around the cat's midsection. "'Mish! Silly kitty," she said through her laughter.

John grinned like an idiot, looking over at Sherlock. Case solved, they slept in the same bed. He couldn't ask for a better start to his day. "Bloody cat," he joked as he shifted slightly to give Sherlock a slow kiss.

Hamish's purr got louder and he rubbed his head all over Amy.

"You are just jealous Hamish doesn't wake you up with kisses like that." Sherlock smirked at his husband and then returned the kiss. With the cat on him and little Sandi on John, it was impossible to pin and straddle his husband right now. Kissing would have to do. They needed to get ready for the day anyway.

Kissing. What a wonderful way to start the day off. Well, until he heard the tell-tale sign of Amy's clear displeasure of the act.

"Dada, Papa, ew!" Amy said, her words muffled slightly by Hamish's head covering her mouth for a moment. "Ew!" She giggled and tightened her small embrace on the cat.

John grinned against his husband's lips, pulling away slowly. "Love you," he whispered with a smile before looking down at his daughter. "Amy, I think it is time to be up and dressed. What do you think?" All he got in reply was a giggle.

Hamish didn't seem to mind Amy squeezing him. Instead he continued his loud purring and head butting.

Sherlock grinned back at John and then smirked down at little Sandi. "If you don't get dressed, I might just have to tickle you." He wiggled his fingers at her with a playful growl. He had seen his husband do that with Thomas on the island and when he repeated it with Amy when just slightly over a year old she had seemed to like it.

Amy's eyes went wide and she hesitantly rolled away from Hamish in order to avoid Sherlock's hands. "Ahh, no tickle!" She yelled with a grin. "No, Papa! No tickle!" She curled into John's side. "Daddy, help!"

"Oh, of course princess!" John looked at his husband and grinned like a fool, reaching a hand out to tickle Sherlock's stomach, easily avoiding Hamish's body. "Dada to the rescue!" That issued a loud giggle from Amy who quickly climbed over John's side and joined in tickling Sherlock.

Hamish flicked his tail at John's face before jumping off the bed to get away from the humans. The cat stalked out of the bedroom haughtily, tail raised high and the tip slightly bent at a weird angle from a fight with another cat a year ago.

Sherlock ignored Hamish, a smirk on his lips as he looked down at John. He let his eye go wide with surprise as he looked to Amy next. "Oh no! No! Stop! Oh please! You win again!" He threw his arms up in mock surrender.

Amy grinned, clearly proud of herself as she sat up, straddling Sherlock's stomach the best her short legs could. "Winna' winna'," she said proudly as she slowly climbed off of Sherlock, gave him a kiss on the cheek, followed by John, and then managed to get off the bed. "Change now, 'kay?" She smiled warmly at both of them before disappearing up the stairs.

John smiled and collapsed against the mattress, turning his head to place several soft kisses on his husband's side. "You are a wonderful father," he whispered as his other hand moved to trace the slight outline of Sherlock's abdominal muscles. "Amy and Thomas are so lucky to have you."

Sherlock smiled as he watched their daughter leave. He looked down at John kissing him, unable to control the small shiver of excitement that rippled through him. "You are a fantastic Dad. They are lucky to have both of us." He tilted his head down to kiss the top of his husband's head. "I love you. I wish we could just stay in bed together all day."

"I am older. I'm the boring one," John replied with a soft smile. "You are not even forty yet, Sherlock. You are going to be the cool parent," he chuckled before returning to the kisses on Sherlock's ribs. "I found a gray hair yesterday morning after my shower." There was a pause where he slowly pulled away from his husband's warm skin, looking up at him with a bit of a frown. "I'm getting old. I am going to look disgusting here in a few years, think you can handle it?"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at John. He rolled, pinning his husband to the mattress as he straddled the man below him. "I think I will be okay. Because I love you. Everything about you. Even your scars." He leaned down and pressed his lips to John's scar tissue on his shoulder, showering it with a few kisses before moving on to the next one.

John let his eyes close, letting out a shaky breath at the feeling of Sherlock's mouth. It was no secret that his husband knew exactly what to do to make him feel good and boost his self-esteem. "Even my scars? That is a big commitment," he whispered, his voice catching slightly in his throat. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." He lifted a hand to run through his husband's hair. There was no doubt he was the luckiest man in the world.

"Dada! Papa! Ew!" Amy giggled as she moved from the doorway and scampered into the kitchen in horridly mismatched clothes, from what John could tell.

"We are going to have to redress her. Purple pants and a red shirt? I am not letting her go out like that." John laughed softly.

Sherlock smiled down at John and then turned to look at little Sandi, a smirk etched on his lips. It certainly wasn't a color coordination he would wear but little Sandi was still young. He rolled off his husband and sat on the edge of the bed. He picked up his mobile and sent a text to Mycroft.

_Thank you for keeping Thomas over night. We will be along to pick him up soon. - SH_

John stayed on his back for a long moment, studying his husband before sitting up himself. "C'mon Papa," he whispered as he placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "We have got a breakfast to get to." He smiled as he shut the door to give them a bit of privacy to get dressed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers, pulling a pair of jeans and a black button-up shirt.

Mycroft shifted slightly on the couch, glancing down at Thomas who had fallen asleep with his head in his Uncle's lap after quite the animated discussion about his upcoming singing lessons.

_Righto. He has quite the surprise for you both when you arrive. -MH_

Sherlock read the message before finally getting up from the bed. He decided to keep John's boxers on. He always liked wearing them anyway. He put on black slacks and purple button up shirt. He buttoned the cuffs around his wrists. "This is going to come as a surprise, but I can't wait to eat. I am pretty hungry, actually." Of course not eating or sleeping for that matter had finally caught up to him. He felt rested but his energy level was a bit low and he had expended most of it on playing with little Sandi just moments ago.

"Did you eat at all during the case?" John asked as he ran a hand through his hair and brushed past Sherlock to leave the room. "Amy, baby." He picked her up with a soft smile and was thankful for the bag left in kitchen with some of her things. He easily changed her into a pair of jeans and pink shirt with a white flower on it, running a comb through her hair before letting her run into the living room to play with her toys. "Any cases lined up right now?" He asked softly as he approached his husband, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and grinning up at him.

"I think I had tea from time to time. Maybe a biscuit here and there, but no not really. I didn't sleep either, so I think that is why I slept so long." Sherlock followed John out of their room. "With Thomas suspended for a week, I thought it would better I took the week off. Unless Lestrade gets particularly needy and a serial killer appears. The money from the last case was more than they offered. The reason I was gone so much those last three days was because they offered another thousand pounds to finish it up in a week's time. I got it done in six days, three hours and twelve minutes." He smirked a bit and shrugged. "Usually money isn't an incentive for me but, I did it for us. The family. God knows I don't want to be reliant on my mother and brother all the time." Another smirk.

At Sherlock's words, John felt his chest expand with pride. His husband had worked non-stop because he wanted to support the family. Sure, it twisted his stomach a bit. Really, what had he done? How was he contributing? But bringing that up would start a fight. Maybe that night he could bring it up while they were laying in bed. "You are fantastic," he whispered with a soft smile, standing on his toes to place a gentle kiss on his husband's lips. "Don't ever forget that." The moment was soon over as Amy moved into the kitchen holding Sherlock's shoes up with a smile.

"Papa, shoes!" She climbed into a kitchen chair and looked at Sherlock expectantly.

The briefest of frowns formed on his lips as Sherlock studied John. He returned the smile and kiss, the smile growing as he turned to look at little Sandi holding his shoes. "Why thank you Baby Girl. Whatever would I do without you? I would be walking around London barefoot, that's what." He grinned at Amy, took his shoes and began putting them on.

Amy smiled proudly, looking up at John for a moment. "Dada," she said a bit softer, holding her arms up. It took a moment before she was picked up, eagerly wrapping her arms around John's neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "Dada."

John let his free hand relax on Amy's back, rubbing at it as he looked over at his husband. "Thomas, then? We will pick him up and go eat." He looked around the flat for a moment and smiled warmly toward his husband. The family would be together and everything would start to look up. Maybe that feeling in the pit of his stomach would leave. There was no time to be jealous right now.

The frown returned as Sherlock studied John once more. Had he said something wrong? He thought for sure his husband would have been pleased by what he'd said earlier. Thomas. Right. He nodded at John. "Mycroft says Thomas has a surprise for us when we get there. Not sure what it could be though."

John knew that look. Sherlock was trying to figure something out. Shit, was he that readable? He cleared his throat and turned his head to place a gentle kiss on Amy's temple before grinning at his husband. "Off we go then. Family outing." He started down the stairs as Amy lifted her head and whispered something into John's ear, giggling before waving at Sherlock.

Sherlock followed after John and before he could lose himself in thought he saw little Sandi waving at him. He couldn't help but smile back and returned the wave. Even though he had told Mycroft that black cars didn't need to pick him up everywhere he went, there was one waiting for them outside. It already had a booster seat for Amy and everything. His older brother was always prepared, if nothing else. Once his husband and daughter were situated he got in and sat next to John. He reached out a hand to and took his husband's, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Of course he already knew. Sherlock always knew. John returned the squeeze, tearing his gaze away from Amy in her booster seat to look up at him. "I am fine," he reassured his husband with a smile. Lie. God, why was he acting like this now? Because Sherlock worked and got all of the money for the house? That was normal. No reason to let it twist his gut and make him feel upset. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, looking at his feet for a moment. "Do you need my help on cases anymore?" He finally asked. Not the right time but it had been bugging him for quite a while.

The pensive frown returned yet again. "Of course. If it weren't for you it would have taken me longer to solve the case. I can know what a person does and what they ate in fifteen seconds but you give me insights I will never be able to have because I am still socially inept at a lot of things. You want to go back to surgery don't you? We would see each other a lot less and maybe that's just me being selfish." Sherlock cleared his throat and turned his head to look out the window. He didn't want John to know how much it hurt to think his husband may not want to work with him anymore.

Damn it. John closed his eyes for a long moment. He had certainly ruined that, hadn't he? "I don't want to go back to the surgery," he told his husband calmly. "Far from it. I just wanted to know. I guess...I am feeling like a horrible part of the family because you solve the cases, get the recognition, and make the money. I can't...say any of that." He shrugged and looked over at Amy who had already fallen asleep. "I can hardly raise them correctly let alone provide for them."

Sherlock nodded slowly still staring out the window. "What if…what if we split up the cases? We would make more money. I know you can do it. Remember when you took the case for Mycroft? I watched you from afar, proud." He turned to look at John finally, a small smile on his lips. "You are doing a great job with children. Just because Thomas got in a few fights, doesn't mean we are bad parents Love."

Was John smart enough to take some cases? It sounded...scary, frankly. "Maybe? I don't know, working with you is good. We could try it." He nodded a bit and smiled. Their skills in communication and avoiding fights had become quite amazing. It made him smile bigger and lean forward to give Sherlock a slow kiss. His tongue ran across his husband's bottom lip and he squeezed Sherlock's hand. He couldn't help himself.

"I believe in you John Watson," Sherlock murmured behind the kiss. He let his eyes close, enjoying the slow kiss. "I love you," he added, still unwilling to remove his lips from his husband's. Except the car came to a stop. Right. Thomas. "Do you want one of us to get Thomas or did you want us all to go up and visit a bit at the manor?"

Stopping. John looked around for a moment and cleared his throat. "They probably want us to go in but why don't you go grab Thomas? Amy is asleep and I think we are all a bit hungry," he whispered as he ran a hand down Sherlock's arm gently. "That all right with you, dear?" He bit his bottom lip as Amy shifted slightly in the seat and made several grumbling noises.

"That sounds wonderful Love." Sherlock smiled at John and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. It was what he was hoping his husband would say actually. He got out of the car and walked up to the manor and inside.

Nancy came bustling into the foyer. "John didn't come with you then? Amy? Oh…I wanted to see them Dear!"

"They are waiting in the car Mum. Little Sandi fell asleep on the way over. Car rides always knock her out. We are going to go have breakfast."

"Sherlock! You could just eat here! Honestly!" Nancy threw her hands up exasperated.

Mycroft smiled slightly at his younger brother, glancing at their Mum for a moment. Since they had adopted Siger he understood the need for family meals, especially after what had happened the previous day. "Mum, maybe another time?" His eyes scanned over his brother. Shagged. Well, nearly. Mouth. He and John had an interesting night. "They need to talk with Thomas."

Lestrade came around the corner with Siger in his arms fast asleep, glancing at all three of them and smiling weakly.

Sherlock smirked knowingly at his brother and gave a slight shrug. His gaze moved to the Detective Inspector. "Ah, there he is. Uncle _Gregory_ ," a smirk, "to the rescue. Thomas didn't break anything this time, I hope?" He arched a brow at his mother.

"No dear. He was a little lamb. He just gets excited easily is all. OH! And the most exciting news! I suppose it would best to let him tell you though." Nancy grinned proudly.

Thomas groaned and shifted in his uncle's arms with a mumble. "Quiet…tryin' to sleep…" He opened his eyes blearily to glare at the adults when he saw Sherlock. That woke him up. "Daddy!" He squirmed out of Lestrade's grasp and ran to hug his father's leg.

Mycroft couldn't help but grin, watching Thomas and Sherlock was quite the adorable moment. "He was perfect. Entertained Siger and even managed to tire him out enough so he would sleep. I think we will hire him as the babysitter," he joked smoothly as Lestrade elbowed his side.

There was a definite blush to the Detective Inspector's face because the news...God, it was news that he wasn't even sure of. He hadn't done any singing in years but to make Thomas happy he assumed he would have to pick it up again. And soon. "And the news to be shared must be all right with you and John, of course," Greg muttered.

Sherlock smiled down at Thomas, putting an arm around his son in a hug. "So, are you going to tell me the news? Or leave your old man in suspense?"

Thomas bit his bottom lip, still a habit of his from time to time even now. He glanced at everyone looking at him expectantly. "Um…I will tell you later…" He muttered, looking down at the floor.

Sherlock knitted his brows together. "Suspense it is then I guess." He ruffled the boy's hair.

"Can I babysit Daddy?" Thomas looked back up to Sherlock.

"Well, that is something we will need to discuss with your uncles and Dad as well. Right now though, no. If you want that kind of responsibility you need to stop these fights at school. Do you understand Son?"

Thomas puckered his lip in a pout, which mirrored Sherlock's almost perfectly. "Yes Sir."

Mycroft smiled as he watched the exchange, looking over to Lestrade who was still blushing furiously. "Off with you two, then! I hear breakfast is in order. And Thomas, I am sure Dad and Amy are missing you bunches," he stated with glance down the hall. Crying. So Siger was awake from his nap.

"Be good Thomas, remember our deal! I will see you next week," Greg stated as he placed a kiss on Mycroft's cheek and moved down the hall to their son's room.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at what Lestrade said and he was about to ask Thomas about it but the boy had run out the door and out towards the car. "Well then, I guess we are leaving." He gave Mycroft a faint smirk and his mother a quick kiss on the cheek before he followed after his son. He climbed into the car and found Thomas leaning against John's arm.


	5. Chapter 5

John smiled up at Sherlock. "I think I found our lovely and perfect son," he said with a laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of the boy's head. He pulled Thomas against him. There. Maybe if he spoke like that to Thomas then everything would start working out. "How was the manor, then? I am sure Siger missed you," he spoke softly and met Thomas's gaze.

"Dad…Daddy…Uncle Gregory is going to give me singing lessons." Thomas looked up at John. "Dad…I don't want to play rugby," he muttered and stared back down at his lap. "Please don't be mad," he added even more quietly. "Don't hate me…" The words were broken and barely audible.

Ah. So that must have been the news everyone was talking about. "T.C. that is wonderful." Sherlock looked up to John, a slight frown at how how quickly Thomas had turned despondent.

John let a grin overtake his face, pulling Thomas into a tight hug. "That's great, Thomas!" His eyes lit up and he laughed. "Our son the future star of London. Oh, I bet you are fantastic," he whispered as he looked up at Sherlock. "We are proud of you, mate. I am glad you found something you're interested in." He tore his eyes away from his husband to lower his head, whispering to Thomas so only the boy could hear. "I love you so much, Thomas. I could never hate you. Singers aree better than rugby players anyway." He turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on their son's cheek.

Thomas looked back up to his Dad, eyes wide. "R-really? You aren't mad then?" He broke out in a grin suddenly excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat. "I love you Dad! Thank you!"

Sherlock smiled at John and then their son. "If you are up to, we can do duets. I can play on my violin while you sing."

Thomas looked over to his Daddy, eyes still wide. "Yes! Oh yes! Please! Pretty please!"

John smiled and glanced back at Amy. Still asleep, thankfully. She had taken a bit after him in the sense of being quite the heavy sleeper. That was something he was thankful for. His attention was taken back to Thomas who was excited and smiling. Truly happy for the first time in a while. It made his chest swell. Maybe they were doing this right. It was only natural to hit a few bumps in the road, right? "I am very proud of you, Thomas." He kept the boy wrapped in one arm and pulled against his side as he studied his husband.

Thomas grinned from ear to ear. "I have the best daddies ever!" He sighed happily, snuggling his head into John's arm.

Sherlock smiled. Things were getting better. That was good. He looked over to John, the smile still on his lips. He used sign language, something they did from time to time when the children were around. 'See? We are doing fine as parents, Love.' They wouldn't be able to use it much longer because both of the kids were picking up on it just by watching them.

John lifted his free hand, signing the best he could in reply. 'Very good.' He bit his bottom lip and sat back in his seat, his hand moving to protectively grab Amy's while the other rested over Thomas's heart. Parents. They were parents. He had never felt this way before. The amount of love in his body would go unmatched for the rest of his life. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, drifting off to sleep for the rest of the car ride.

Sherlock smiled, as he watched Thomas fall asleep next. He instructed the driver to just return to the flat. Once it came to a stop, he took out the boy first. He saw Mrs. Hudson and smiled. "Mind getting Amy for me? She is still asleep in the car, along with Daddy." He gave her smirk and then moved up the stairs to take his son up to his bed.

Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly. "Of course not dear." She moved out of the flat, going into the car and gently pulling Amy out of her car seat. She twisted slightly in the woman's arms but easily fell back asleep as Mrs. Hudson carried her up the stairs and tucked her into her bed. "I left him down there for you to wake up." She looked at Sherlock with a raised brow, a knowing smile on her lips. "Figured that is a very husband-like thing to do."

"Thank you. I will get my husband to bed." Sherlock smiled at Mrs. Hudson and walked back out to the car. "John. Come one Love. I just had the car take us home. You lot are tired. Take a nap and I will cook us a brunch all right?" He pulled on his husband gently, and helped the sleepy man up the stairs to their room.

John grumbled and leaned heavily against Sherlock. Why had he gotten so sleepy all of a sudden? Jesus. "Sorry," he whispered as he turned his head to place a kiss on Sherlock's cheek before kicking his shoes off and climbing into the bed. He immediately curled around his husband's pillow, looking up at him tiredly. "Shag me?" He whispered with a tired smile. Another fantasy of his, one he hadn't really told Sherlock. Getting shagged while he was half awake. Perhaps Sherlock would say yes.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. Right now? With the children in the flat? He wasn't even hard right now. Shit, he was hungry too. Would John get upset if he turned his husband down? It wasn't often he wasn't in the mood to shag, but all he could think about right now was preparing any sort of food and shoving it into his mouth immediately. He doubted he had the energy to shag anyway. "How about after we eat?"

John yawned and nodded slightly, pressing his face eagerly into his husband's pillow. "'Kay," he muttered, rolling slightly on the bed to lay on his stomach and spread out as much as he could. "Later is good," he finally let his eyes close and fell asleep.

Amy slid out of her bed with ease, making her way down the stairs. "Papa, can't sleep." She rubbed at her eyes with one hand and clutched her stuffed dog with the other, looking up at Sherlock with a small frown. "Hold me, Papa? Please?"

Sherlock nodded to John and then closed the door to their room partially. He smiled down at little Sandi. "Of course Baby Girl." He leaned down and picked her up with ease. Do you want to help me make food for Daddy and Thomas? You are always such a good little helper. And you know what," he paused and leaned in to whisper in her ear conspiratorially, "because we make the food it means we get to snack on it while we do it. How does that sound?" He walked them to the kitchen.

Amy nodded slowly, looking around the kitchen as she wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, her stuffed dog shoved against the side of his face. "I never made food a'fore," she said softly as she pressed her nose against her Dad's cheek. "Don' wanna mess up," she added in a whispered of her own as she looked back at the kitchen with wide eyes. "Hung'y, though. Eat." She smiled slightly and wiggled in his arms slightly to press closer to him.

Sherlock smiled at little Sandi. "Well, I will teach a few things okay Baby Girl. You won't mess up." Hamish was by the fridge and he meowed loudly. "It seems we aren't the only ones hungry." He walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, getting out some ham for the cat and grabbed a banana for Amy. He peeled it for and offered it his daughter before walking over to the table, where Hamish jumped up and he began feeding the feline the ham.

Amy eagerly grabbed the banana, leaning to the side to place her stuffed dog on the table. "You's smart," she stated around a mouthful of banana, swallowing loudly and inhaling several times. "Know I won't mess up." She nodded eagerly and took another bite of her banana. "Daddy, he saided that you's the best Papa ever. That true?" She swallowed her second bite and studied Sherlock intently.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "I am pretty smart, yeah." He continued to feed Hamish, his eyebrows raising slightly. "He did, did he? Well, your daddy thinks so. To be honest Baby Girl, I am not so sure about that but I do try." He finished feeding the cat and he stood up from the table. He felt dizzy for moment. Probably low blood sugar. He didn't usually go this long without eating and it was catching up with him. He closed his eyes and leaned against the counter for support. "Sweetie, Papa isn't feeling well. Could you get Dada for me please?"

Amy concentrated on Sherlock for a long moment before nodding, getting herself out of her father's arms and looking around. "Yeah. Sit," she pointed to the chair before stumbling toward their bedroom. "Dada! Dada!" She climbed on to the bed with a small grunt, pushing at John's shoulder.

John groaned and rolled over, blinking several times and studying his daughter. Where was Sherlock? He rubbed his eyes before Amy spoke.

"Papa. Some'fin wrong in the kitchen." Amy looked worried and that was what made John sit up quickly, grabbing Amy as gently as he could.

"Sherlock?" No. Something could _not_ happen now. No. He walked into the kitchen and looked around frantically. "Sherlock?"

Sit? Sherlock wasn't focusing very well. Maybe he should make sure little Sandi made it their room all right. It was hard to concentrate. Where was he going again? Weren't they going out to breakfast today? He stumbled towards the stairs and began to descend them. Was John calling his name? He turned to go back up but he slipped down the stairs, tumbling to the bottom with a crash.

That was a crash. Shit. John gently set Amy down. "Baby Girl, stay here all right? I need you to stay here." He moved toward the stairs, hurrying down them and falling to his knees right in front of Sherlock. "Love," he whispered, lifting his husband's head and biting his bottom lip. "Sherlock...Sherlock, wake up." God, he sounded desperate and this _wasn't_ supposed to be happening right now. "Sherlock, it's me. It's John. Can you hear me?"

Sherlock had literally done somersaults down the stairs and he had hit his head a couple of times. He was disoriented when John found him but he managed to blink his eyes open. He had to blink several times, there was blood dripping down into his vision and making it blurry. "Jawn?" He managed to slur out, drawing out the name longer than need be. "…'mhungry…'n' tired…hurt…I think…no…no hospital?" It was hard to focus and make coherent sentences. His head was hurting a lot.

Right. Calm. John opened his shirt and instantly mopped up the blood on his husband's face, smiling a bit. "There, can see a little better now?" He whispered softly before shifted to sit Sherlock up. "Okay. You probably have a concussion," he said to himself. Food, for starters. Ice. Ibuprofen. He looked up the stairs for a moment and sighed. He closed his eyes, his shoulder slouching for a moment. Focus. Afghanistan. Training. He opened his eyes and easily picked his husband up, moving up the stairs and going straight for their bedroom. "Don't move," he ordered roughly as he moved to the bathroom. First Aid kid. Pajamas. He made sure Amy was still in the living room, smiling a bit when she was playing with her toys, and moving back toward Sherlock. "I will make you food if you behave right now." His blue eyes were steel as he pulled his husband's clothes off, smirking a bit at his pair of boxers on Sherlock's slim hips as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants. He got a gauze pad and placed it on the cut on Sherlock's forehead, securing it with a sure grin. "Take this," he popped three pills into Sherlock's hand and stood, moving toward the kitchen. Bread. No time for toast. He brought it back with a glass of water and then finally calmed down, looking more like John than a rushed soldier. "Are you all right?"

Sherlock groaned. "Not goin' anywhere…" He muttered weakly. He just wanted to sleep. Food could wait, but John kept coming in and was talking and moving him a bit. He was staring at the pills his husband had given when John came back with bread and water. His partner had told him to do something with them but his brain just couldn't seem to catch up. He blinked and looked up to John. "Hurt," he whined. "Tired…" He muttered, his eyes slipping closed and the hand holding the pills dropping to his side.

"Okay, nope." John shook his head and moved to straddle Sherlock, picking the pills up. "Wake up. You can't sleep," he muttered as he opened Sherlock's mouth and slipped the pills in, followed by water as he held his husband's head up. He instantly moved to pat his husband's back the best he could. It was sad but he'd had practice with giving pills to unconscious people. "Up, love." He gently hit Sherlock's cheek several times, biting his bottom lip. "Sherlock, you have got to stay awake for me. Up. Don't make me pinch you."

Sherlock swallowed with a slight cough. He groaned, his eyes slowly opening. "Sorry," he muttered. He stared up at John with a slightly unfocused vision. "…bound to happen…over two years…nothing…" He gave his husband a crooked smirk. "…should of known…the fights…bad omen…" He wasn't sure if John would understand but it was difficult to form a full thought, let alone sentence.

"That's why you married a damn good doctor," John replied softly, looking over as Amy moved into the room. She was silent, like she knew the magnitude of the situation, and simply climbed on to the bed and sat next Sherlock. Toys in hand she continued to play, occasionally glancing at him to make sure her Papa was all right. "I am going to try not to take you to a hospital. Sill have your memory, which is good. Just fuzzy thoughts. Typical of a concussion. Here." He shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. It wasn't entirely appropriate to straddle Sherlock with their daughter on the bed. "Few bites. I think your blood sugar dropped, love." He tore a piece of bread off and held it to Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock managed a faint smirk. "Best doctor." He glanced over at little Sandi. "Baby Girl…'mkay…" His gaze shifted back to John. "Probably, no food…weak…" His eyes fluttered open and shut but he managed to keep them often after a brief battle. He took a small bite of food, chewing slowly. The movement of his jaw made him wince a bit, as it caused part of his forehead to shift as well and agitated the fresh wound on his head.

"Right. Jaw's a bit out of place. I can fix that." John paused and glanced at Amy who was watching them curiously. "Later. It's going to hurt," he muttered as he handed off another piece of bread without a second thought. "I know you hate eating during cases but you might have to eat...something, at least. I am not trying to force you but, you know." He shrugged as Amy leaned back on John's pillow and kept her eyes locked intently on Sherlock. "Probably better for all of us."

"...'msorry...jus' wanted to finish for the bonus...'smy fault..." Sherlock finally ate the second piece offered to him. Little Sandi kept staring at him. He must look horrible. "Baby Girl did good...went to get you..." He turned to smile at Amy. "Was...going to show 'er how to cook..." He had messed that up. If anyone was the bad parent of the two, it was him. He sighed at his thoughts. "...Do you...think...'m really the best Papa...?" He looked up at John inquisitively.

John blushed and quickly looked at Amy. "I told you that as a secret!" He said with a smile, biting his bottom lip she giggled and grabbed a bit of the blanket to hide under. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He nodded and looked back at Sherlock, a warm smile on his lips. "You are the best Papa in the world." He reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock gave the hand a weak squeeze. Christ he was tired. He was about to close his eyes when Hamish jumped directly on his stomach. He stared down at the cat, which pretended not to notice by licking its paw. The cat walked over to Amy and slid under the covers, curling up next to her leg, and loud purring could be heard underneath. He returned his gaze to John. "More food? Need stay awake…"

John nodded and grabbed another piece of the bread, placing it against Sherlock's lips. "Damn. I was going to shag you tonight," he whispered with a smirk. It had been a while since they had just shagged in their bed. Fantasies were good and all but their bed, the normalcy, it was nice.

Amy squealed and pulled Hamish closer to her, snuggling with the cat eagerly. "'Mish, my favorite," she said with a giggle. "Silly. You's silly," she whispered as she gently pet the top of his head.

Sherlock at the bread managing a small smirk in return at John. "…still can…?" Not being able to speak full sentences was beginning to frustrate him. He was tired and just wanted to sleep, except right now his husband wouldn't let him and he understood why. At least the pain in his head had gone from throbbing to annoying.

Hamish butted his head against Amy's hand, his purr getting gradually louder as it rumbled deep within his chest.

John shrugged, leaning forward to gently kiss Sherlock. "Perhaps. Bit worried given your penchant for head injuries," he whispered as he pulled away to glance to his husband's other side. Amy was nothing but a bump under their blanket, loud purring echoing out. "You can sleep in a few hours, I will just wake you up." He smiled warmly and licked his lips. "Should I go get Thomas?"

Sherlock smirked again. "...Have my memory...and...and...not acting like child this time..." Thomas? He would prefer the children didn't seem him like this, but little Sandi was already in bed next to him. At least the cat was entertaining her. "If you want." Almost a proper sentence. Good. Better.

"We were supposed to be having a bit of a family day," John whispered as he stood up, pulling his hand gently away from Sherlock. "Maybe we could get Thomas to sing for us," he added as he left the room. Waking up a nine year old was a bit of a task but he wanted their son know that he was always welcome and part of the family. He climbed the stairs slowly, entering the room and moving to crouch beside Thomas's bed. Sleeping. God, he was such a wonderful child. "Thomas," he said softly, lifting a hand to run through the boy's hair.

Oh right. Couldn't they have family day another time? When he wasn't stuck in a bed with a bandage over his head? Sherlock nodded anyway and to help keep him awake he watched the two small lumps under the cover.

Thomas turned away with a groan. "No school...want to sleep..." He muttered into his pillow.

John grinned. "You sound just like me," he muttered as he picked the boy up and held him close. "Family time. Come sleep in our bed," he whispered as he took their son down stairs and laid him easily next to Amy and Hamish. A small giggle of delight came from under the blanket as her head popped out. John kept himself next to Thomas, gently running a hand up and down the boy's back.

"Papa," Amy whispered, glancing at John before scooting closer and lifting the blanket up slightly to reveal Hamish's pink tongue caught between her thumb and index finger. "Papa, look it! 'Mish is silly!" She giggled again and looked down at the cat.

Having slept on island where things were scary and he felt like he was starving all the time, Thomas could sleep just about anywhere without much trouble. He groaned, throwing the pillow over his head as he heard his sister giggling.

Sherlock smirked at Thomas and then smiled at little Sandi. Hamish was unusually tolerant of Amy. Even when she had been younger and pulled his tail, the cat wouldn't do anything.

"Oi," John said with a bit of a laugh, curling his fingers to scratch Thomas's back. He must have been exhausted. Did he even sleep while he was at the manor? He just wanted the boy to feel welcome because he was part of their family, a massive part. Their son. The boy they rescued and watch grow up. He twisted and pulled at the blanket from his side of the bed and covered Thomas up to his stomach.

Amy finally let go of Hamish's tongue, looking up at Sherlock. "Want to feels better?" She gently climbed on to her Papa's stomach, leaning forward and placing a kiss over the bandage on his forehead. "Always works. Better?" She sat back with a large grin, her hands splayed across Sherlock's upper chest.

Sherlock smiled up at little Sandi. "Much better, Baby Girl. Thank you." At least he was talking normally again. He wrapped his arms around her gently and gave a small hug.

The bed was getting too crowded for Hamish's tastes so the cat jumped off the bed and trotted out of the bedroom.

Amy smiled and easily wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, pressing her face into the side of it. "Love you, Papa. Gonna cook for you one day. I can make coffees, Dada taught me," she whispered proudly, making sure to check that John hadn't heard her. "He taughted me when you guys was wrestling one morning." She nodded seriously.

John frowned a bit and looked at Thomas, biting his bottom lip. Was sleeping this much normal? He and Sherlock's conversation ran through his head. Could he be sick? Maybe depressed? Right now really wasn't the time, obviously. The boy was asleep...but he couldn't help but worry.

Sherlock smiled at the hug. "I love you too Baby Girl." His smile soon twitched into a smirk. "He did, now did he?"

Thomas hadn't slept last night at the manor. When he had been put to bed, he had snuck out of the room to explore the secrete passages he wasn't supposed to know about. Daddy had told him about them, after promising not to tell anyone. Except, he got lost down there but eventually found his out by accident right around breakfast was being served.

"Yeah. He saided that I shouldn't stop wrestling matches and then you made a funny noise to Daddy and then he got all red," Amy stated seriously, sitting back on Sherlock's chest and studying him. In her little head the subject changed instantly, eyes narrowed. "Why doesn't I look like you, Papa?"

John's head shot up at that, his body feeling cold for a moment before he looked at Sherlock. Fuck.

Sherlock was trying really hard not to laugh and managed a serious nod to match his daughter's serious tone. Oh. He glanced over at John a moment. It was bound to happen sooner or later, he supposed but he didn't think it would be _now_. He decided for a half truth and if his husband wanted to elaborate then he would go with it. "You got all of Dada's good looks."

Amy looked a bit skeptical at Sherlock's words, glancing between the two of them before biting her bottom lip. "You's pretty, too," she finally said. "Like here," she pointed at his eyes with a sure nod. "And you is taller than Dada."

"Oi," John managed a tight smile, looking between the two of them with a gentle laugh.

"But Uncle 'Croft told me dat I look like you 'cause I stare really, _really_ well. I like that." After her comment she narrowed her eyes and locked her gaze intently on Sherlock. "See?"

The smirk twitched back into place. "Yes, you are very serious sometimes for an almost three year old." Oh yes. There. Perhaps he could distract little Sandi with that. "Your birthday is coming up. There will be lots of presents and new toys. Are you excited about that?" Sherlock looked over to John briefly, the smirk still in place and then glanced back up to their daughter.

Thomas groaned. "Going back to bed, too loud in here." He grumbled and stumbled out of the room. The couch in the living room was closer and he decided to sleep there instead.

Amy's face lit up instantly as she fiercely nodded her head. "Yeah, Papa! I asked Daddy for a pony and," she paused for a deep breath, her little face turning red from the excitement. "And from you I want a um," her eyes closed as she thought. "I want, um, I want a sister." She nodded at her answer and looked at John proudly. "Pony and a sister. Dat's what I want."

John couldn't help but blush, clearing his throat and glancing toward the living room where Thomas had retreated to. "Amy, you have got Thomas. You've got an older brother."

"But 'Mas is a _boy_ , Dada. He doesn't like to play dolls or house," Amy stated, as if it were obvious fact.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, glancing back over John. "Those are some big requests there Baby Girl." Should he tell her not to be disappointed if she didn't get those things? Would she cry and be upset about it a long time? Being a father was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

Amy shrugged and shifted on Sherlock's chest to rest her head right under his throat. "A stuffeded pony would be good, too. Then I can play with 'Mish and he can rescue it," she whispered in awe. Clearly the ideas she had were growing and becoming more fantastic with each passing moment. "And Dada said that it would just be me and 'Mas but I thinked you guys could talk." She nodded a bit with a yawn, closing her eyes as the rhythmic movement of Sherlock's chest lulled her to sleep.

"Well, unless you know any willing participants, it looks like she's getting a stuffed pony," John whispered with a bit of a smirk. The thought of a third kid had, honestly, scared him. Two were hard enough to raise.

Sherlock smiled and put an arm around little Sandi, to help hold her in place while she slept. "If she wants a pony when she is older, I could arrange it. Have one bred just for her, at the manor stables. Too young for one now, yeah?" He didn't want to think about a third kid. Two was more than enough, in his opinion.

John snorted and fell back to lay down, stretching with a small groan. "Of course you could." He laughed as he turned to place a kiss gently against his husband's side. "You are already doing a lot better, I think the initial shock has worn off." He placed another kiss on one of Sherlock's ribs. "Might actually shag you tonight if you keep this up and you aren't tired." A mischievous smirk tugged at his lips and he lifted his gaze. "Slow. Lights off. Under the blankets," a pause. "Very traditional."

Thomas groaned as he walked in. "I will just be in my room...so you can do...whatever..."

Sherlock was about to reply when he saw their son walking away. He looked over at John with raised eyebrows. Well, looked like Thomas was back to pouting. He sat up slowly, a wave of dizziness washing over him. One hand was wrapped around little Sandi protectively.

"Back down," John stated softly. "Just relax. I am going to go talk to him." He moved slowly out of the bed and bit his bottom lip. Talking to Thomas was always an adventure. It shouldn't be so hard to talk to their son but at this age he was rather stubborn. "Love you." He smiled softly before leaving their bedroom and heading upstairs. "Thomas?" He entered the room slowly and glanced at the boy.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock waited for John to leave, before he gently placed little Sandi on the bed. He took a moment to orient himself before he slipped into the living room quietly. He glanced around to make sure he was alone before taking out his hidden bag of cocaine. Within the last few months he had picked the habit up again. He was having a hard time balancing work and family lately and the drug helped him make through sometimes. He made sure to take small doses and only when he was really feeling the need. He inhaled the powder through his nose deeply, cleaning up his mess and putting the bag back in its hiding spot. He walked to the kitchen so he would have a valid reason for being out of bed. He fixed himself a glass of orange juice and ignored the stare of Hamish upon him. It was almost as if the cat was judging him.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Dad, I already know about sex okay? We don't need to have 'the talk' or whatever. It isn't a big deal." He looked down at the textbook he was reading with a sigh. "School work is boring."

John bit his bottom lip. "I didn't really come up here to have that talk with you," he replied with a bit of a smirk. "I will ask you later how you already know." He ruffled his son's hair and sat next to him on the bed. "Is everything all right, Thomas? You know you can talk to me or Daddy if anything is bothering you. We would like to know." There. That was simple enough, wasn't it? "Do you need to tell me anything?"

They had sent a text but didn't get a reply which usually meant the entire family was asleep. Might as well drop in anyway, they figured. Siger climbed up the stairs eagerly, Mycroft staying downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade entered the flat and glanced around. Empty. Definitely family nap time. He smiled a bit and walked farther into the living room, looking around with a small smile. It looked so different from a few years ago. He sighed and moved to sit down before something caught his eye. What in the world? He moved toward the fireplace and crouched down. Was that...? That was when he heard movement in the kitchen he turned and looked at Sherlock with wide eyes. That was cocaine. "Is this-?"

Thomas rolled his eyes again. "It wasn't that hard to figure out once I got in school. You and Daddy do it all the time, it isn't a secret." He shrugged. "There isn't anything bothering me. We already talked about it and I thought it was sorted."

Sherlock almost did a spit take all over the floor when he heard Lestrade. Shit. "It…isn't what you think. I just…need it for stress sometimes. I'm not addicted." Except that once an addict, always an addict no matter how often he used. "Please, don't tell John…or Mycroft… I don't want them to worry about me." He finally set the glass on the table a little rougher than necessary, and approached the Detective Inspector. He snatched the bag indignantly and put it back in place.

"Whoa, mate. We do _not_ go at it all the time," John said with a blush. That was embarrassing, the fact their son knew they shagged a lot. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. "We were just wondering, Thomas. You are not staying with the family and we just want to spend time with you. Have we done something wrong?"

"Not addicted? Sherlock..." Lestrade glanced toward Thomas and Amy's room, keeping his voice low. "If you weren't addicted you wouldn't do it in the first place or keep a secret stash," he hissed, pulling Sherlock to stand straight by the back of his neck. "How long? Sherlock, how _bloody_ long have you been doing this? When was your last hit?" He glanced back at where the bag had been hidden. "Why? Have you been around your family high? Shagged your husband? You are a fucking idiot."

Thomas shrugged again. "Everything's fine Dad. I don't know what the big deal is. Never really hung out with the family before. Not sure why you are noticing now," he muttered.

"It is nothing all right? Just let it go. It isn't any of your concern or business." Sherlock was suddenly angry. Not really at Lestrade but himself. He knew the Detective Inspector was right. It was just easier to take things out on his brother-in-law. His eyes narrowed and he took a confrontational step toward Lestrade.

"I always notice," John shot back instantly, eyes narrowed. "Thomas, I always notice. When you go to your room right after dinner, when you don't talk during family night." He looked around the room and sighed. This wasn't exactly going like he planned. "I thought it was typical kid stuff. I have never raised a kid before, I am learning too." He finally looked back at his son. "Talk to me. What is going on in your life?"

Lestrade took a step forward himself, their chests nearly touching. "None of my business? You are joking, right? You can't be serious? That is an illegal substance. I could haul you in right now if I wanted to. You've got a family and John Watson is the best thing to happen to you. Are you really willing to throw that all away from some fucking addiction?" He lifted a hand up and gently shoved at his brother-in-law's shoulder. Well, that wasn't good.

Thomas rolled his eyes again. "I go to school, get in fights and I like to sing. What else do you need to know that you don't already?"

Between the concussion and the cocaine Sherlock had just taken he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. As soon as Lestrade shoved him, he felt his fingers curl into a fist and he took a sloppy swing at the Detective Inspector. "Want to take me to jail? Fine! Might as well, have a good reason!"

John looked out the door for a moment at the sound of Sherlock's voice. Sloppy and a bit rough to hear. Maybe he was on the phone? "Why haven't you been talking to Daddy and I? I am not trying to be difficult, all right? But I just want to know what's wrong." He reached across his son to gently shut the textbook so he could have the boy's attention.

Pain. Jesus Christ, even high the man could deliver quite the punch. Lestrade stumbled to the ground and shouted slightly. Definitely a black eye. "Fucker." He looked up and managed to get to his feet, taking his fist and swinging it in the direction of Sherlock's cheek. "Idiot! You don't deserve a family!"

"Dad nothing is wrong! Now you are just being annoying!" Thomas knew better than to yell at either parent but he couldn't help it, he was frustrated.

Sherlock's reflexes weren't what they usually were and the blow connected, splitting the skin and causing it to bleed. He stumbled backward, the concussion disorienting more than what a blow like that would have. He bumped into the coffee table, tripping over and falling backwards. The couch was there to cushion most of his fall at least. He blinked several times and when he tried to stand, nausea and dizziness overtook him and he slumped back into the couch with a groan.

John winced and looked around the room until... "What the-" He stood and darted from the room, coming down the stairs just as Mycroft entered the flat.

"Gregory!" Mycroft bolted forward and held his husband back as the man advanced toward Sherlock.

"Shit. No!" John rushed toward his husband, looking up at his brother-in-law. "Lestrade, what is going on?"

The Detective Inspector tensed and glanced at Sherlock, panting for breath nervously. Should he say something? "I...nothing. He said something about Siger," he muttered softly.

Great. Now everyone was going to know. Sherlock lifted his gaze to Lestrade in surprise but dropped it to the floor shortly after. "Right. Sorry. Concussion. Not…thinking clearly right now…" He looked back up to the Detective Inspector. "We'll talk later, yeah?" Knowing his brother, Mycroft already knew something was amiss and he would ask Lestrade what really happened and…then his mother would find out. He sighed and closed his eyes in defeat, slumping further into the couch.

Thomas had followed after John and he kept looking from one adult to another. The two most important people to him had been fighting. His lower lip quivered and he ran back to his room muttering something about hating this whole stupid family.

John closed his eyes for a long moment and pulled Sherlock's head against his chest, trying to make the area around him as calm as possible. Something had definitely happened, that much was obvious. What exactly was going on between the two men was a mystery. "Sherlock I'm...I'll be right back." He stood up slowly, glancing at Mycroft and Lestrade before following Thomas upstairs. "Thomas, mate," he whispered as he shut the door behind him and quickly embraced his son. "Shhh, Thomas, it is all right."

Lestrade pulled his arm roughly away from his husband, glaring down at Sherlock. "How long?" There was no context, Mycroft was still confused. "Tell me, damn it. How fucking long?" He growled.

Mycroft looked toward the kitchen and moved to scoop up their son, easily carrying him back to John and Sherlock's bedroom. Amy was still asleep and he had a feeling somebody should be with her. "Sleepy time, Siger," he whispered.

"No it isn't! Daddy cares more about his stupid cases than me! You care more about Amy! Uncle Gregory punched Daddy! Everything is wrong with this family! It…it's broken!" Thomas was crying and screaming at the same time.

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes. Shit. His head was pounding again and Lestrade was glaring at him. "Just a couple of months. Three at the most. I…" He trailed off as no real excuse as to why came to mind. "Just…get rid of it…" He muttered before falling to one side and passing out.

"I love you just as much as I love Amy," John whispered as he moved a hand to scratch at the back of Thomas's head. "Thomas, it's fine. Family's fight, all right? It is...normal." Lie. No it wasn't. Nothing about this was normal. Something had happened downstairs and it was monumental. "Shhh, deep breath." He placed a kiss in the boy's hair.

"Fucking idiot." Lestrade moved forward and crouched down, hitting Sherlock's cheek several times. "Wake up, Sherlock. Wake up. You are going to fucking tell your husband," he muttered as he continued to try and wake him up.

Thomas pulled away. "This is the island all over again. Only Uncle Gregory hurt Daddy and not you."

Sherlock didn't move or groan when Lestrade tried to wake him up. The bandage on his head was gradually turning red. The stress of the moment had reopened the wound. He was breathing but it was slow and shallow.

John tensed. The island. Fuck. _Fuck_. "Thomas, I didn't hurt Daddy on that island." His voice was too high to sound believable. "I-I'm sure Uncle Gregory had a reason, all right? Sometimes...things happen." This was turning out to be quite the horrible day, wasn't it?

Lestrade frowned and lifted a bit of his shirt to cover the bandage. "Sherlock, don't do this," he whispered as he tried to wake him up again. "Please don't do this. If I take you to the hospital everybody is going to know. Not like this. It can't happen like this." He moved to pinch the sensitive skin against Sherlock's ribs.

"Yes you did! I'm not an idiot!" Thomas was screaming again, tears still streaming down his face. "Why is it okay for you guys to fight? But I do it and get in trouble! Grownups don't make any sense!"

Sherlock groaned this time but his eyes didn't open yet. "John…'msorry…please…I was stressed out…I didn't know what else to do…" He groaned again, his eyes finally fluttering open. It took a moment to focus and realize that was Lestrade over him and not his husband.

"Adults fight sometimes, all right? Sherlock and I...we had a problem. I was irresponsible. I was punished, Thomas." John bit his bottom lip and groaned. What a wonderful day. He figured nothing would go right for them. "Thomas, please don't scream."

Lestrade frowned and ran a hand through his brother-in-law's hair. "We have got a problem," he said softly. "But it isn't my place to tell anybody, especially not your husband. We can hide this entire thing and you can go on with your life." He paused and looked back at the fireplace. "I swear to God, though, that if I find out you are still using I will kill you myself and tell John."

Thomas suddenly threw his arms around John, hugging him tightly. He continued to sob, causing the front of his dad's shirt to get wet from his tears.

Sherlock gave a slight nod. "Need to eat," he muttered in hopes of changing the subject. It was true though. He was just going to keep getting worse and weaker if he didn't start ingesting food. He sat up slowly, but he was ready for the dizziness this time and he waited for it pass.

John returned the hug tightly and closed his eyes, trying not to cry. "I am sorry. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Thomas. I'm trying, I really am," he whispered as he took several deep, shaky breaths. "I'm trying to be the best Dad ever, all right? Please just trust me."

"Sit up," Lestrade muttered as he moved into the kitchen. Stocked, well stocked. It was actually a bit difficult to pick something. "Um, here." He plucked a pack of crisps from on top of the fridge, opening it and returning to sit next to his brother-in-law. "Eat slow. You are crashing already, I can see it in your eyes." And he had seen it before, especially with Sherlock.

"Dad…I love you…I'm sorry too… Can…can we start over?" Thomas was gradually calming down, the sobs turning into sniffles.

Sherlock slumped heavily into the cushions of the couch. "Took it…without eating for seven days. Not…the smartest thing I have done." He managed a faint smirk. He finally took a bite of one of the crisps. "You'll get rid of it for me? Not sure I have that kind of self control right now, to do it myself."

John nodded and blinked his eyes rapidly. No crying. "Yeah, of course we can. I want to be the best Dad I can to you, all right? And I know I'm going to mess up sometimes but just trust me...I am going to take care of you. I love you so much, Thomas." Emotion. So much emotion. It felt like it was flooding his body.

"I will get rid of it, even if you wanted to keep up," Lestrade said with a smile. Despite the very obvious and serious issue surrounding them he couldn't help the smile. "I'm not trying to invade your privacy but...have you shagged him high? I just...I don't know why. You were doing so well."

"You are the best Dad ever. You and Daddy. I'm…I'm glad you adopted me." Thomas continued to cling to John in a tight hug.

"No. I…this is the first time I used when someone was around. Usually did it at work, to help me through cases when it was getting late at night. I didn't do it often. Less than a dozen times since I started. I don't know…I guess I fooled myself into thinking it was helping me solve cases. Stupid, I know." Sherlock shrugged, and started eating another crisp.

"We try." John smiled and maneuvered himself to sit on the floor, keeping Thomas wrapped in his arms. "Things can get tough but we will make it through. We always will. You are a Watson-Holmes now. We're strong."

"Right." Another pause. "Are you going to tell him?" Lestrade looked over at Sherlock curiously. "I mean...why now? Why with your family in the house? That's a fairly strong sign of an addiction. I'm just...worried."

"Can…can I change my name? I haven't gotten in a fight over it…but that boy says I'm not really part of the family because we don't share the same last name." Thomas finally let go to look at his Dad in the face.

"I told him about losing my memory and shagging some guy. I can tell him about this," Sherlock muttered. It was obvious he wasn't thrilled with the idea. "Things aren't going well with Thomas and I needed something to help calm me."

"Oh, yes, of course you can. Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald Watson-Holmes. Quite the posh name you've got there, kiddo." John laughed and pressed the tips of their noses together. "Your wife is going to hate you in the future," he joked softly.

"I wish I could tell you it was going to be easy but it won't be," Lestrade said softly. "I don't think John's expecting it. You have hidden it very well." The silence in the room was so tense. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have punched you. I was just so disappointed in you."

"I don't think I ever want to get married. Too many fights." Thomas resumed hugging his Dad tightly again.

Sherlock shrugged. "I punched you first, so I deserved it." Would John hate him? Would it be the final straw with his husband after so many screw ups before? Would John take the kids and leave him? Would he be alone? Left to die by himself? He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the sudden onslaught of thoughts. He shoved another crisp in his mouth, grinding it up with his molars harshly.

"You might not fight as much. You probably won't," John whispered into his son's hair. "All marriages have some bumps in the road," he muttered. God, had he and Sherlock ruined any type of future relationship for Thomas? "Don't count it out. You are young. You have got a while."

"Still shouldn't have punched you," Lestrade whispered with a chuckle. Quite the afternoon. "Can you tell me where you bought it from? I'm...curious." Perhaps all of this could end in something good. Well, with the exception of how John would react to the news. "It could really help us."

"Rather not find out. Think I will just be alone." If adults fought like that sometimes, maybe it would be best to not try at all. Thomas continued to hold onto his Dad.

It took a moment for Lestrade's words to register. His thoughts had consumed him and was practically drowning in them now. Sherlock blinked several times. "What? Oh. Right. He is probably in your system already. My parents had him put in jail for dealing to me when I was a teenager. He used to be the pool boy. I think he has connections to a influential drug cartel. Might be able to use him to get bigger fish." He shrugged a bit, not really caring either way what the Detective Inspector did.

John laughed and scratched Thomas's back. "You're an attractive young bloke," he stated softly. "But it's your life and I can't tell you what to do." After a pause he pulled away to lock his gaze with his son. "I am so proud of you. Thomas, you are the perfect son. Don't you ever forget that."

"Right. Thank you." Lestrade cleared his throat and nodded. "Why don't we get out of here and give you your family back?" His gaze was knowing, even a bit nervous. "It'll be fine, I'm sure. Explain the cases thing and it'll work out. Promise." He stood up slowly as Mycroft came out of the bedroom, Siger fast asleep in his arms. Amy followed blearily, rubbing her eyes and stopping a few feet from her Papa.

Thomas grinned. "Dad, don't be silly. No one is perfect, not even daddy." A pause. "But don't tell him that, I don't think he knows."

Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if his older brother had been standing just outside and listening in the whole time. Tonight. He would tell John after the children had gone to bed.

Laughter echoed through the room as John studied his son. "Our little secret, then. Except I do think Daddy is rather perfect," he whispered with a wink. "Then again, I have been married to him for a bit. My opinion is slightly biased." He shrugged. There. Normal conversation.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, studying his younger brother. "I won't tell Mum," he muttered distastefully as the family left.

Amy stood in the middle of the living room and looked at Sherlock. "Papa," she mumbled as she walked forward and climbed slowly on to his legs. "Papa, what wrong? Uncle 'Croft asides you been bad."

Thomas finally let go of his Dad. "Going to see how Daddy is doing." He ran out of the room to the living room but stopped with a frown.

The initial reaction had been anger, his eyes narrowed a bit. With a sigh Sherlock slowly nodded. "Your Uncle is right. Your Papa is a stupid man. Don't ever be like me, okay Baby Girl?" Oh. How long had Thomas been there? John probably heard too then.

John stood slowly, Jesus he was getting old, and moved down to the living room as well. All he had caught was something about Amy never being like Sherlock. He placed his hands on Thomas's shoulders as he stood behind him. "Why would Amy never want to be like you?" He smiled warmly and looked down at their son.

"You're not stupid. Smart. You's smart," Amy whispered as she hiccuped slightly. Crying. Who would be mean to Papa? "Not stupid. Want to be just like you."

Thomas frowned deeper. Why would his Daddy say that? He ran into the living room and hugged Amy. "Shh...it's okay. Papa is just upset right now..."

Great. He ad made their daughter cry and disappointed their son. He really was a horrible father wasn't he? Sherlock sighed, got up from the couch and retreated to the bedroom. He couldn't deal with all of this.

John watched Sherlock leave with a small frown, moving toward their children. "Why don't we have you guys go upstairs? I think it's Amy's nap time," he whispered as he looked at Thomas. The boy was a fantastic older brother and he couldn't help but smile slightly.

"B-But Papa," Amy said with a quiver of her bottom lip, clutching desperately to Thomas's shirt as she soaked the front of it with her tears.

"He is just tired, Amy. You are fine." John bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before looking at the boy. "Would you mind watching her for a bit? I'm going to go talk to him." He stood and moved toward their bedroom, gently shutting the door and glancing over at Sherlock. "C'mere," he whispered, moving forward to tightly wrap his arms around his husband.

Thomas took Amy's hand and led them to their room, telling his little sister everything would be okay.

Sherlock mumbled as he turned to pout into John's chest. He didn't feel like talking right now. He just wanted to be alone in misery but he couldn't bring himself to push his husband away.


	7. Chapter 7

Whatever had happened clearly upset Sherlock. John pressed a kiss into his husband's hair, running a hand soothingly up and down his partner's back. "It's fine. It is all right," he whispered while he closed his eyes. "I promise. Whatever it is you are fine." How else did he comfort his husband? He bit his bottom lip. It had been months since either had them had comforted the other with sex. They had talked more often than not, figuring it was healthier but...sometimes he just didn't know what to say. Especially because he had no idea what was going on. He dropped his head and placed an open-mouthed kiss right behind Sherlock's hair, his hand moving so his fingers could slip into the back of his husband's trousers slightly.

Sex wasn't really something Sherlock wanted right now. He didn't deserve any love and attention John had to offer, but God his husband's mouth felt wonderful in his hair. He moaned, arching back into John. Shit. He should tell his husband what had happened. What a failure he was. Just one last comfort…just one last time because he was certain John would want nothing to do with him after he found out what happened.

Right. So maybe sex _was_ the best option John had in distracting Sherlock. He smiled a bit, his hand moving into his husband's pants and fully gripping his ass, pulling him forward. A sharp gasp escaped John's mouth and he lowered his mouth to bite at Sherlock's shoulder through his shirt. "Good," he whispered as he pressed his hips forward. One week. It had been one week since he'd been inside of his husband and he missed it. "Can I shag you tonight?"

"Now?" Sherlock whispered, his voice coarse and needy. "Please?" He was certain if they didn't shag now, he would end up telling John what had happened and then his husband would never want to fuck him again. He finally turned to be face to face with John. He kissed his husband on the lips, wasting no time to enter his husband's mouth. He pressed his hips into John with a moan.

For a moment John almost said 'no,' almost held Sherlock close and asked him what was happened. Wouldn't that be better for both of them in the long run? But then he felt his husband's erection press against his own and something in him broke, his self control was flooded with arousal, and he eagerly pressed back. "Now," he replied behind the kiss, reaching between them to start undoing the buttons on Sherlock's shirt. "Will fix you," he added with a moan.

Sherlock wanted to tell John he was broken beyond repair. Except, then his husband might ask why and it would ruin everything. "Please," he whispered again. "Love you. Love you so much. Please don't ever forget that…" He pressed into John again with another moan. He moved his lips his husband's neck and began to mark the other man eagerly.

John lifted his head and closed his eyes with a breathy moan, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet. They had kids upstairs and he wasn't too keen to get interrupted. "Love you too," he replied as he pushed his husband's shirt off of his shoulders, moving immediately to the front of his trousers. "Always will. My anchor, my husband." His hips moved with each word as he tried desperately to get Sherlock's trousers off.

With every word John spoke, it made it harder for Sherlock to want to go through with the shagging. He was feeling worse. Fuck. Maybe he should tell his husband everything. They had been doing so well on communication. What if John didn't get as upset as he thought? It was hard to focus on what was going on right now, as his thoughts began to over take him. What was he doing? Right. Kissing John.

John lowered his head to sloppily meet Sherlock's lips as he finally undid the man's trousers, shoving them down and backing his husband toward the bed. "Love you. Amazing, you are amazing," he whispered against his partner's lips. "Love you so much." He reached between them to start undoing his own trousers, moving his head to run kisses down Sherlock's bare chest.

It was like John was mocking him now. Like his husband _knew_ and was just trying to break him. Was he really going to go through with this? The kisses on his chest were a bit distracting, that was good he supposed. Sherlock couldn't turn his brain off, no matter how hard he tried. No matter what wonderful things his husband was doing to him. Focus. Come on. He could do this. He continued to suck on John's neck.

Something was a bit off but John figured he could fix it. He had to fix it. "Going to shag you so slow." He lifted his head and grinned, biting his bottom lip as he slid his pants down and slowly started pulling his shirt off. "Whisper in your ear, let you know how much I love you, my husband." He reached between them again, this time to grab his husband's penis, giving it several slow and tight strokes.

"N-no. Hard. R-rough. P-please." John was trying to torture him into the truth, Sherlock was certain now. Usually his husband's hand stroking him would feel amazing but the guilt was eating at him and now he couldn't even enjoy a hand job. He bit John's shoulder with a growl, trying to get himself back in the mood.

Wrong. Everything going on around them just felt wrong. Shit. Did he stop or did he- _Fuck_. Teeth in his shoulder, rough and he was fairly sure there might be teeth indents in his skin for days. "Slow," he growled in reply. He had it planned and Sherlock wasn't going to change it. He wanted to show Sherlock how loved he was, how thankful he was for everything his husband had done. "Love you, want to show you."

"No! I don't want slow!" Sherlock was yelling now and he hadn't even realized it until after the words had left his mouth. He growled his frustration, rolled off the bed and tripped over the trousers at his ankles. He managed to catch himself and he kicked them off in anger. He was about to storm out of the room when he remembered the children. He sighed loudly, and slid down the door. He couldn't stop himself and he started crying. Too much. It had all just caught up to him now.

John rolled on to his back, gasping slightly for breath as he lifted his head to study Sherlock. Well. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair with a frown. Sherlock was crying. Bad. "Right...do you want to talk about it, then?" He muttered and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet barely touching the floor. Did he approach his husband? Try to comfort him? It hadn't worked earlier and now he was stuck with an erection pressing against his stomach.

Sherlock looked up at John, hating the tears in his eyes. "If I tell you, you will hate me. You'll leave me, take the kids and maybe you should. Maybe I should just go live somewhere else for awhile. I don't deserve you, to have a family. I am just a stupid, selfish bastard." He growled in frustration once more, slamming his head against the door. He had completely forgotten about the concussion and his vision became tinted with black spots and started to blur.

Arguments like this, where Sherlock's point was that he was stupid and selfish, weren't completely uncommon. On nights when John would beg him on the phone to come home for just the night, to keep him company in bed, his husband would react like this. Was it the family? The concussion? He cleared his throat. Did he want to know? "Clearly keeping it bottled up isn't helping things," he whispered as he moved off the bed and straddled his husband's hips the best he could, pushing the mans' knees back. "It's fine. I am sure it is fine," he whispered as he pressed their foreheads together.

Sherlock flinched, turning his head away from the contact, not to get away from John really but because his head was _pounding_. "I have been taking drugs the last couple months, maybe three. Cocaine. I swear to you, I never used when the kids were around. Not until today, that is why Lestrade punched me. He caught me. I thought for sure he was going to take me to jail. He should have. I…can't stay here John…I am going to go live in a hotel for awhile…"

It felt like somebody had hit him in the chest. Had he heard that right? It felt like water was in his ears, like everything was distorted. Cocaine. That...he had heard that very right. "No," he whispered hoarsely as he pulled away from Sherlock. What else did he say? "No," he repeated as he met his husband's gaze. "H-How often? I...why? Was it me? When we argued on the phone...fuck, you were high..." He choked on his own air, slamming his hand on the floor with a sob. Where had he gone wrong?

"John, I am sorry. So sorry. Please don't hate me." Sherlock dropped his gaze, he couldn't bring himself to look at his husband anymore. "Not a lot, less than a dozen times. It wasn't you. I am not coping well with being a family man. With trying to fit you, the children and cases. That school Thomas goes too isn't cheap. Tuition. Books. The uniform…" He shrugged miserably. "I was just trying to get through the cases, its why I always worked so late and hard…so I could move onto the next one. Sometimes…I just…I needed an extra boost. It isn't a good excuse, I know. But you have a right to know, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I did it at all. I thought I could manage it by taking it only in small doses. See? Told you I am an idiot." Usually he would have smirked after saying something like that but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He lifted his head finally, to look at John. "If you don't forgive me, I will understand. Scream at me. Hit me. I deserve it. All of it."

John's jaw was clenched, eyes squeezed shut as his shoulders and chest moved in quick breaths. Too much. It was just too much. "Mycroft pays for the bloody school, you idiot. You...idiot," he whispered brokenly as he roughly lifting his hand to wipe tears away from his eyes. "I just...I have been doing so much to help you out. I have come home and taken care of them and let you do what you needed. Damn it." There wasn't any fight left in him to scream or hit the floor or do anything. What did he do now? Did he take the kids to Nancy's? Leave Sherlock alone? That risked him turning to drugs, to cocaine or heroin. That was something he was very afraid of. "Why did you do it today? Amy was asleep on your chest. Your _daughter_ , Sherlock. She was snuggled against you. You just up and left her to get a bloody fix. What am I supposed to tell them?"

"I have been paying him back, bit by bit." Sherlock dropped his gaze again. John wanted to tell the kids? The thought made him sick. "Don't tell them please…no…" He didn't have any right to ask, to beg for that but…shit, his husband was going to tell them. Right. He deserved that he supposed. "I had originally left just to get some food and I looked over to where I keep it hidden. And...I don't know…I just…" He trailed off with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"You've been paying Mycroft _back_?" John's eyes narrowed dangerously. "When did you plan on telling me that? You can't just hide things like that from me, Sherlock! Did he demand you pay him pack? Is that it? Some family secret like you all have anyway! They all hate me as it is so why talk to me about Thomas and school, right?" Definitely shouting now, face red and chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. "I can't believe you. You have got a family. Kids, Sherlock. _Kids_." His stomach twisted and he forced the bile down with a wince. "Get out." He got to his feet slowly, not even able to look at Sherlock. "Just...get out."

Sherlock merely bowed his head in defeat and nodded slowly. He got to his feet, redressed, and packed a bag in silence. He left the flat without uttering another word. He had just lost everything. His husband. His children. He ignored the black car, apparently Mycroft had anticipated this outcome. Instead he hailed a taxi and got in. He mumbled an address, not really caring where the cabbie drove him. He checked himself into a hotel, threw his stuff into the room, and then went down to the bar for a drink. Well, he planned to have several really.

Fight. A horrid one at, that. Lestrade had warned him and he had expected everything. Perhaps the car was a little too much, he knew Sherlock would take a taxi anyway. Did he approach Sherlock? Try and see if he could fix things? At this point everything seemed a bit too broken. Drugs. Losing his family. Sherlock was going through Hell. "Go." Simple enough word. Anthea nodded and jumped into action.

"You probably shouldn't do that," she said softly, leaning against the bar by Sherlock's stool.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Anthea. "My brother sent _you_? I don't even fucking like you. So, go do something else. Go try and be someone's conscious that actually gives a damn." He glared at her and defiantly downed the shot of scotch in front of him. He ordered another immediately after. "At least I am not using. Which, I _seriously_ considered before coming down here."

"You do give a damn," Anthea replied smartly. She had even put her phone away for their little conversation, determined to keep her boss happy. "Nobody drinks because they are bored. You are drinking to forget the pain. That pain, might I remind you, is from caring about who you have just hurt." She looked around the bar. Several young women, and men for that matter, had their eyes locked intently on Sherlock. It might not end too well if he kept drinking like he was. "I wish you would stop."

"Oh good, just what I wanted. My own personal psychologist to tell me how I am feeling and thinking right now." His voice was full of bitter sarcasm. Sherlock downed a second scotch and ordered another one. "Honestly, I don't care what you want. I am an adult and I'm quite capable of making my own decisions. Lately they haven't been good ones, which is why I am here and making more stupid, rash choices. I know _exactly_ what I am doing and you know what, I just don't care. Not anymore…" His voice finally dropped and he stared thoughtfully at the third shot glass.

"Then don't say we didn't try to save your marriage," Anthea said softly, turning to leave the pub.

_No use. Couldn't stop him. What now?_

Mycroft winced and closed the text message, running a hand down his face with a soft groan. Damn it. This wasn't supposed to happen. Things were constantly happening to Sherlock and John, most of it out of their control...but cocaine. That was something that could have been prevented. Maybe if he could get to Sherlock? He opened a new text message and attached a picture of the family several weeks back in Mum's garden. Sherlock had an arm around John's shoulder, actually smiling at the camera, and Amy and Thomas were in front of them with wide grins on their faces.

_Think about what you are doing. -MH_

Sherlock rolled his eyes and glared at his phone when it buzzed to life. He checked to see if it was John. No. Just Mycroft. He didn't even bother to open the message. He could already hear his older brother judging him and telling him what to do and not to do. Just like always. Why couldn't Mycroft just mind his own damn business? It was over. John had kicked him out. Maybe he could get one of the blokes in this bar to fight him. He was really looking to let off some steam. After a few more drinks maybe. Then he could forget. He downed the third shot finally.

It didn't take long for attention to get drawn to Sherlock. A young man, not much older than twenty-five, moved to sit next to the consulting detective. His blonde hair was done up with precision and dog tags clicked together against his chest. "Scotch, please." He smiled warmly at the bartender, his green eyes narrowed slightly with the movement of his lips. Now or never, he figured. "I'm not trying to intrude but aren't you Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?"

Oh good. This made provoking a fight much easier. "What's it to you?" Sherlock didn't even bother to look at the man seated next to him. He had no interest in making conversation really. Not unless he thought the man next him turned out to be an easy mark. Probably. Military men usually were, in his opinion. Honor and all that rubbish.

The young man shrugged and took another sip from his drink. "You are married to Captain Watson," he commented with a bit of a smile. "He was my Captain a few years back before he got hurt. Good man." A pause where he tugged his bottom lip. "You like Army blokes then? I don't think John would mind sharing you."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He may have been doing a few shots of scotch but he wasn't _that_ drunk. "I am married and committed to my husband, so get lost." John may have kicked him out but not everything was lost yet, was it? Was his husband going to file for divorce? Take custody of the kids? They were still married and if he ever wanted a chance to salvage his marriage, then fucking some bloke he just met probably wasn't the best way to do it.

That answer was not what the man had wanted. "Are you sure? I am a fantastic shag." He reached a hand out to run it gently up Sherlock's bicep. "Captain wouldn't mind at all. People share all the time in Afghanistan. Why should London be any different? I mean, you are here alone. Might as well entertain yourself."

Sherlock let out a snarl. No one got touch him like that except John. He pulled away, standing from his stool quickly, causing it fall over. " _Don't_ touch me!" Here was the fight he was looking for. Now, he just needed to give the other man incentive to punch him. He shoved roughly at the young military man, in an attempt to dislodge him from the stool.

The man stumbled off the stool, catching himself on the bar with a grunt. "The fuck?" He stood up completely, his body tensing as he shoved Sherlock back roughly. "I was just offering. Don't need to get all picky about the dick you ride." He growled as he shoved Sherlock again. "John obviously didn't want you. That is why you are here."

Sherlock smirked as he stumbled over the stool behind him but caught himself on the edge of the bar. "Just because I came here to drink alone, doesn't mean I was looking to score with the first bloke willing to whore himself out." He kicked the stool away, causing it to crash into the ones behind it. His eyes were narrowed and he shoved the military man again.

There was clearly something wrong with the man in front of him. After rolling his shoulders slightly and clearing his throat the military man lifted his fist, slamming it into Sherlock's lower stomach with a grunt. "Fine then," he said shakily into Sherlock's ear. "Missing out. John probably wouldn't care anyway." He shoved Sherlock back with a snarl.

There it was. Sherlock did nothing to stop the punch. He couldn't get John to do it, so this guy would have to do. He deserved a beating for being such an idiot. Also, this guy was really pissing him off. "Fuck you! Don't talk about my husband like that. You are the one running around and being a whore." He smirked a bit, his eyes still narrowed as tried to provoke another attack with just words.

"Arse," the man muttered before moving forward and tackling Sherlock to the ground. "You're an idiot. D'you know what the papers say about you? That you're a fraud. You are a massive fucking fraud." He growled as he pressed Sherlock's body tighter against the floor. "You're just a fake who can't do anything better with his life and sit in some bar and drink."

Sherlock tumbled to the ground, landing on the ground with a crash. It had been a smart idea to move the stool after all. His eyes narrowed at what the other man said. A fraud? Really? When the hell had that rumor started? "At least I am not a whore like you," he managed to utter out. His head was pounding again. Stupid concussion. He would probably have another one by the time the night was done at this rate.

"Fuck off," the man muttered as he stood slowly, looking down at Sherlock with narrowed eyes. "Hope John knows what's best for him. Definitely isn't you." He smirked and moved back toward several other, clearly military, men and grabbed his beer.

"You are a bloody idiot." Lestrade moved to stand by Sherlock's head, bending over him slightly.

That…was disappointing. Sherlock sighed as he looked up at Lestrade. He got to his feet slowly, waiting for the dizzy spell to dissipate. He glared over at the military man. "Fucking coward! Can't even finish a fight he started!" Maybe he could still provoke the man, although the odds would go down with the Detective Inspector standing there. Shit. He needed another drink. He ordered a fourth shot but the bartender refused to serve him. He sighed again, leaning against the bar heavily.

Lestrade smirked a bit and leaned against the bar with Sherlock, looking around. "Well, you are drunk. Granted, it doesn't to take much." He smirked a bit and gently elbowed his brother-in-law. "C'mon, let's get you back to your room before you make that concussion of your worse, yeah?" He moved to gently place his hand on the inside of Sherlock's shoulder, not pulling but simply waiting. It wouldn't do any good to provoke the man right now.

Sherlock sighed. No more drinking and probably wouldn't be able to get anyone to fight him now. "Fine," he muttered with a pout. He leaned up off the bar and led Lestrade back to his hotel room. He fixed the Detective Inspector with a smirk. "If you are looking to score too, I am afraid you are out of luck. I'm a married man, you know."

Lestrade laughed at that, lifting his left hand and wiggling his ring finger. "I'm afraid I am married, too. And since you have upset my husband just a tad I am stuck without a bed to sleep in for the night. At least we both are married," he joked softly as he walked into the room and looked around. It was a bit...different than what he expected for a Holmes. Not too posh. Then again, Sherlock probably had been in a hurry.

Before he could stop himself Sherlock muttered, "Never stopped you before." He hadn't even been trying to provoke a fight this time. He decided to blame it on the scotch and concussion. It clouded his judgment. Although, admittedly that was certainly something he would have said before John. He mumbled an apology and slumped onto a bed.

Lestrade tensed, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I have not cheated on your brother since we got married," he explained in a low tone. Calm. Getting upset wouldn't do anything, especially for Sherlock. The last thing he needed to do was punch the man. "Why don't you just sleep it off. Maybe John will text you in the morning," he muttered as he fell on to the other bed with a sigh.

"Going to order take out. Still need to eat. In the last seven days I have had tea, some biscuits…maybe, bread, orange juice, cocaine, some crisps and scotch. On top of that I have gotten into physical altercations and I got a concussion from falling a flight of stairs. It is a wonder how I am not in the hospital yet and I would prefer it stay that way." Sherlock shrugged with a sigh. "Do you want anything?" He had already pulled out his mobile and was sending a text.

Lestrade grumbled into the pillow, sighing before he rolled over to face Sherlock. "Not hungry. More sick to my stomach than anything," he stated weakly, as he yawned. "Maybe later. I can order my own." He forced himself to sit up because sleeping right now wasn't an option. He couldn't risk Sherlock doing more drugs and making the entire situation worse.

With another shrug, Sherlock put the mobile away. It didn't take long for the food he had ordered from Angelo's to be delivered. He took the bag and when he tried to pay, the money was refused. He shook his head, muttered a thank you and closed the door. He sat down at the small table the room offered and set up his dinner. Caesar salad, shrimp Alfredo and garlic bread. He had ordered the Alfredo because it reminded him of John. He sighed at his thoughts and began eating. He looked over to Lestrade with raised eyebrows. "Hey, have you heard anything about the media saying I am a fraud?"

Lestrade looked up at Sherlock for a long moment before clearing his throat. Was now the right time to bring it up? "Just some...some stupid people, Sherlock." There. Simple enough. Clearly a yes but downplaying it to make it seem like everything was fine. "When you are smart and constantly solving cases and doing a damn good job then some people will get suspicious." He shrugged and turned the telly on with a sigh.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes but continued to eat. "How bad is it?" Was that why he hadn't been getting as many private cases lately? He sighed. He couldn't do anything right, could he? Failed John and the children and now he was failing at the one thing he was _actually_ good at. "Maybe I should just quit…" He muttered. He wasn't hungry anymore but he forced himself to keep putting food in his mouth. "I have been thinking about writing children's books anyway." He still had yet to do that.

"Not horrible. The main papers reporting it are trash in the first place. Nobody really important is running anything about you." Lestrade shrugged slightly, watching Sherlock eat for a moment. "They are just saying you fake everything, that nobody could be that smart. Y'know, typical things those trashy publications do. Don't worry about it." He shifted on the bed, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I still need you and I have recommended several people to you for private cases. I think you are doing fantastic, best work you have done in years, really."

Sherlock closed his eyes a long moment. "I can't do both. I tried. Working cases and having a family. It is just too much. I love both so much and I am afraid I will have to give up one to have the other. I don't want that…" He put his fork down and shook his head at himself. "I am a failure as a husband, a father, and I can't even solve cases now without an extra boost from drugs. The papers are right, I'm a fraud. Just a stupid, selfish man who can't do anything fucking right!" He growled his frustration, slamming a fist on the table. The fork flipped into the air and landed on the floor.

This was more of a conversation for John, really. Lestrade just watched Sherlock for a long moment before finally opening his mouth. "You did it before you and John were married. He is a fantastic influence on you and I understand that your family and marriage are very important but solving cases is what you do. You didn't use cocaine every day to solve those cases, did you? Because you've solved some fantastic cases without drugs."

Sherlock sighed again and then picked up the fork. He didn't care it had just been on the floor and resumed eating. Talking wasn't really working for him. Why hadn't John called or text him yet? His husband must be really pissed at him. Not that he blamed John really. He stared broodingly into his food but continued to put it in his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

John shifted slightly on the couch, making sure Amy stayed balanced on his chest. The telly was muted and the only source of light in the room. Honestly, this was the only way he had been able to get his little girl to fall asleep. It didn't bother him though. The prospect of going back to his room made him frown. The bed would be empty and cold where he wanted love and warmth. Those thoughts were erased when he sent his husband a text. Bitter. Cold. He couldn't help himself.

_If you left that in this flat around my kids I will kill you. – JW_

Sherlock's mobile vibrated to life and he took it out immediately. The words made him frown. So, John was still pissed obviously. Not their kids, but _his_. Right. He didn't deserve to have kids after what he had done. That's why he would be sleeping alone in a hotel room. Although, he seriously doubted that he would be able to sleep tonight.

_No. Lestrade took it all before they left. – SH_

He wanted to say he missed John, that he loved his husband. That he wanted to come back home. To beg for forgiveness, but he didn't deserve any of that. This was his punishment. Maybe he would never go back even if for some reason John asked for it. It was obvious the family was better off without him.

John opened the text and read it multiple times. What else did he say? There was still so much for them to discuss and figure out. Maybe over coffee? He seriously doubted he could handle it in the flat. He looked down at Amy as she shifted slightly in her sleep.

_We should meet tomorrow and talk. I don't want you back at the flat yet but we do need to figure some things out. – JW_

There. That was civil and a step forward, right? The least he could do was calm down, wait a day, and then hear Sherlock's entire story. Even though he was willing to talk he highly doubted he would wanted his husband back in the flat for he next few days.

Sherlock stared at the text thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if he wanted to fight for his marriage or just let it fall apart. Clearly he was unworthy. Why the hell else would he be in a hotel room and not back home at the flat?

_Okay. – SH_

A simple enough reply. What else was he supposed to say? No? The thought had occurred to him but he just couldn't bring himself to send that.

John frowned a bit as he started to reply. Why did it feel like neither of them was trying? They had been married for nearly three years and he didn't want to just leave Sherlock.

_Café down the street from the flat. 13 hundred hours. – JW_

Was there anything else he could say? Right now he didn't want to tell Sherlock he loved him, didn't want to ask him back. Everything was beyond that.

_Have a good night. – JW_

Sherlock was about to reply to the text when the second one came through. It reminded him of the days they had texted while John was away in Afghanistan. He couldn't give that up. Damn it, he was going to fight for them. Prove to his husband he was worth it.

_Okay, I'll be there. See you then. – SH_

He hesitated but ended up sending a second text anyway. He didn't really expect a response to it because he was certain that right now his husband hated him.

_And John. I'm sorry. I miss you and I love you. – SH_

Amy twisted with a small whimper and slowly opened her eyes. "Can Papa tell me a story now?" She asked softly against John's chest. "Can't sleep without Papa's story."

John winced and looked at his phone, reading the texts with a glare. "I told you a story, Baby Girl," he whispered in reply. But he knew it wasn't the same. His voice wasn't low, his imagination wasn't good enough. He hit the call button and passed his phone off to Amy.

The little girl grabbed the mobile the best she could in her sleepy haze. "Papa! Hi, Papa! How is your case? Fun?"

No text back. Right. John hated him. His mobile started ringing but was disappointed when the person on the other end wasn't his husband. God, he really was a terrible father wasn't he? A case? So, John had lied to the children then. "Hey Baby Girl. Yeah, this one is a little tougher than usual but Uncle Gregory is here to help me with it."

"You's with Uncle Greg! Tell him Amy says hi!" Amy grinned and shifted to sit up in John's lap. "Dada saided that you would say a story. Can I have a story?" She clutched her stuffed dog to her chest with a small sigh. "I wants you home for stories," she muttered. "When will the case be done, Papa?"

A story? It was the one thing Sherlock felt like he could actually do right in his life as a father. Maybe he could prove to John, and even himself, he wasn't such a lousy parent after all. "It will probably be a few days I'm sorry Baby Girl, but I can tell you a story over the phone." He was quiet a moment, he had never told her the story about the orphan and the knight. He was saving that for whenever he finally got around to actually writing that book. "Once, there was princess and she was the most beautiful princess in all the land. She was kidnapped by a dragon. Many knights and princes went to save her but failed. Until one day, a brave knight came along. He knew fighting the dragon would never work, so he outsmarted the beast instead. He saved the princess and they lived happily ever after. They got married and had kids and they ruled their kingdom with justice, love and kindness. The end." Not one of his better stories in his opinion but he was still feeling the effects of the scotch.

Amy had fallen asleep halfway through the story, snoring softly against John's stomach. Of course. This would happen. John frowned and gently picked his mobile up.

"Right. Um, she fell asleep so," John cleared his throat. This was certainly awkward. "Thanks."

Sherlock was surprised to hear John's voice; he thought for sure his husband would just hang up on him. It had felt like ages since had heard it. What should he say? Maybe a stupid joke? Was it too soon for that? God, he just wanted to fix everything right now. He had a feeling there wouldn't be a magical fix here. That John would just continue to hate him and push him away. "Of course, it's the least I could do." A pause. "John, I swear I'll make this up to you even it takes the rest of my life or die trying." How much longer would he be able to last away from his family? Now it was just torture to him. How long before he went back to drugs? To heroin so he could forget the pain. He really was a weak and stupid man, wasn't he?

The last thing John wanted to do was talk about everything that had happened earlier. He was tired, knew he wasn't going to sleep. "It's...whatever. Look, I'm going to go to sleep so..yeah. Have a good night and all that." He slowly pulled the mobile from his ear and ended the call, looking at his daughter for a long moment. Had he just torn apart his family?

"John…wait…no…" But it was too late. His husband had already hung up. Sherlock sighed, staring at the mobile as if it willing it would make John call or text him back. He couldn't do this. It was killing him, but his husband didn't care. He was trying but John just kept holding him back. He got up and went to the bathroom, where he slammed the door shut and locked it. He slid down, burying his head between his knees. Why wouldn't his husband at least let him try? Worse things had happened to them and things turned out fine. Why…why was this so different?

Lestrade jumped slightly as the door was slammed, wincing as he sat up. Well, that hadn't gone like Sherlock probably wanted. There was no way he could convince John to do anything. It wasn't his place, it never would be. But now he was lost because he couldn't call his own husband and so he decided to fall back and go to sleep.

Sherlock stayed locked in the bathroom all night, refusing to come out. He had cried on and off but he didn't sleep at all. How could he? His mind wasn't turning off and all he could think about was that John was going to leave him. That the only reason they were meeting at the café was because his husband was going to tell him off for good. And after that he would never see John again. Never get to see the kids again. He hadn't even been able to kiss them goodbye. He was going to die alone, despite the fact the John had promised on many occasions he would never leave. After everything, after he had stood by his husband after nearly being killed by John and through the treacherous media nightmare. Why was it so easy for his husband to walk away? Maybe…maybe John had never really loved him at all…

It was 12:30. Right. Still half an hour but he figured Sherlock might be eager to show up and talk. Wishful thinking. John looked at his mobile for a long moment before sending a text.

_I'm here if you want to head over. – JW_

He set it down gently on the table and moved to instantly twist his wedding ring around his finger. It was a nervous habit, he'd realized. God he was so scared. He just wanted this to be over with and to have Sherlock back home. And clean.

Sherlock was still in the bathroom when his mobile went off. Right. Might well just get this over with. The suit he was wearing was disheveled terribly and he looked like a right mess. He just didn't care and he walked out the door, looking more like a hobo than a Holmes. His hair was even wilder than usual, it was obvious he hadn't shaved and his eyes were red from the tears he had shed. He ignored whatever Lestrade said and took a taxi down to the café. He shuffled in, unable to look at John at all. He slumped into the chair opposite of his husband, staring at the floor still and unspeaking. He had already tried and been shut down, what was the point of trying anymore?

And John thought he had looked horrible. He had managed not to cry around the kids and the lack of sleep was certainly showing on his face. "I want to start off right away by saying I have absolutely no intention of leaving you. Ever. I made a vow that I would stay by your side for the rest of my life and...and last night without you was Hell." There. Start off positive and maybe they would get somewhere. Maybe Sherlock would start to look more like himself. "I am just...really disappointed. I'm not even angry anymore. I just want to know why."

That should have made Sherlock feel better, but he had pretty much beaten himself up emotionally and mentally. He finally forced himself to look at John. He shrugged lamely. "I am just an idiot..." His voice was raw, cracked and broken.

John shrugged and sat back in his chair. "I won't deny that. You used drugs. There is no other way around that." He kept his gaze locked intently on his husband, biting his bottom lip. This was going to be a bit harder than he thought. "I want a few more days apart. I don't think I could have you back so soon." He roughly ran a hand through his hair and exhaled shakily. No crying. Not in public. "Did we ever shag _while_ you were high? I know we've shagged since you started so we're both getting tested an I'm not shagging you for a while. I just... I can't."

Sherlock was despondent and quiet. He merely nodded here and there, as needed. He shook his head about shagging while high, because they hadn't. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair and still refused to meet his husband's gaze. Any fight he had left was gone completely now. He finally spoke, gaze still averted. "Whatever you want to do, is fine." At this point he didn't care anymore. "Are we done here? I would like to go...if it's okay with you of course..."

"No." John shook his head and locked his gaze on the table. It was like they weren't even married. Jesus, had he messed things up this much by sending his husband out of the flat? "I want you to talk to me, Sherlock. I want to...talk. This is why we are here." He licked his lips, clearly a bit frustrated. "You have given up, I can tell. You've just...stopped. Don't. People in marriages, they experience things like this. What else do you want me to do? Welcome you back with open arms and pretend this never happened?" His voice wasn't harsh or rude, it was soft and curious. "Please talk to me. I want to discuss you coming back home in a few days and what we are going to do to fix all of this."

Sherlock was quiet a long time but he finally lifted his head his head to look at John. "I have already apologized, a few times and I tried my best to explain everything. It doesn't make it right or okay. I know I screwed up. Even when you are ready to have me, I don't know if I'll come back. I don't deserve you or the children. I will probably stay away for awhile. I'm not sure how long right now. I'll be the first to admit I am miserable not being at home but…" He trailed off with a shrug.

That was not the argument John wanted to hear at all. "You deserve us. All of us. The kids miss you..." A pause and a blush. "Sherlock, I miss you. I'll be the first to admit I am upset and that I wish this wouldn't have happened but I don't want it to ruin us. I love you, Sherlock. You are my husband." This had to work. The thought of Sherlock being out of the house broke his heart. He wanted his family. "How many times did you buy?"

"Only twice, I didn't use a lot or often but I still did it." Sherlock shrugged yet again. "I'm sorry for not telling you I was paying Mycroft back. I didn't want you to worry about the money. Up until now, it was the only thing we really fought over. I don't like that he pays to be honest. Just my pride and arrogance getting in the way I guess…"

"We are still learning," John replied as he laced his fingers together. The urge to hold Sherlock's hand was so strong but he couldn't. That was weak and right now he needed to try and figure everything out. "Would you have told me of Lestrade hadn't found your stash?" His eyes lifted slowly, a blush of fear across his cheeks. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"I don't know. Maybe. I had a chance not to tell you but I did anyway. Lestrade wouldn't have said anything to you. I could have avoided all of this but everything I am suffering right now is what I deserve and more really. And…I couldn't keep something like that from you…" Sherlock trailed off with a sigh. "Did you know that people are calling me fraud? Also, I got in a fight. Some guy trying to pick me up at the bar. A military boy said he was under your command and wouldn't mind if you shared. I of course turned him down." Might as well get it out there. With his luck, it'd be all over the news and his husband would find out that way instead.

"I know. I have read the crap papers but didn't tell you. You didn't need that distraction while you were so focused." John managed a bit of a smile but it faltered. A bloke from his company? Well, that shouldn't have surprised him. The men he had led several years back were all young, very much the epitome of men. He sighed. "Well, you didn't do anything so I can't be mad at you for that. I probably would have gotten in a row with him, too," he muttered with a small sigh. It felt like a forced conversation but he couldn't bring himself to get up and leave. Sherlock's presence was comforting despite the current situation. "Amy really enjoyed your story last night."

"Had a chance to sleep with my brother-in-law but turned him down too. For the record, no he didn't actually ask." Sherlock managed a faint smirk that slowly turned into a small smile. "Good. She missed most of it. I could hear her snoring about half way through. It wasn't a very good story anyway, really." Right. Running out of things to talk about. He wanted to move over and hold John tightly but he couldn't. He hadn't earned that right again yet.

John snorted at that, a grin on his lips. "Lestrade? Should I get more gray hairs, then? That what turns you on these days?" He giggled again, biting his bottom lip as he studied Sherlock. "I...yeah, but she slept through the night. She stayed with me. Thomas ended up joining us this morning." He shrugged. "Bit of a morning tradition when you have got cases. We all snuggle in bed together until it's time for school or breakfast."

This…was better, right? Sherlock frowned at the last bit John said. "Do you think I should quit taking cases? John…I don't know if I can do both. I struggle to balance them. It is why I started the cocaine in the first place, to just help me get through it. I miss so much of the family activities. I am not really a father to those children. I'm just a stand in every once in awhile…"

"It isn't my decision to make, love." John winced internally at the use of their common pet name. Habit, he supposed. "Taking cases...that is who you are and it's our lively hood. If you quit I will most certainly have to take a job in surgery. Not a problem, really, but I will be gone a bit of the time." It was odd to think about, the great Sherlock Holmes not taking cases. But the family...would benefit. "You are an amazing father. They know that, so do I. You aren't just some stand in, I promise."

"Quitting would be better for the family," Sherlock muttered bitterly. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to do _both_ but he just couldn't seem to make it all work. They were both so damned demanding. He would never be happy if he stopped working cases and he would probably end up using drugs again as a way to cope. So really, he was fucked either way.

"Could we...I don't know, set up a schedule? Perhaps you only work cases on certain days and private cases would simply have to understand? If they want your work bad enough they would have to understand." John smiled a bit. It had to work. It was compromise and it was the best he could come up with to keep Sherlock as positive as possible. "It could work." He was certain it would. Maybe he could find a job that would give them some extra income. "I'm sure Lestrade would understand, too."

God, Sherlock wanted to kiss his husband right now and not even in a sexual way. Moments like these were why he married John to begin with. Time and time again his husband saved him. "Yes. That would be good." He smiled genuinely at John. "I love you." Right. Probably shouldn't have said that. He didn't have that privilege yet either. Should he apologize?

John had opened his mouth to suggest a few days but he was stopped cold. Did he respond? It was only polite and he _did_ love Sherlock. They were talking, mending things. It seemed like a good time. "I love you too," he whispered with a small blush. "I do. I really, really love you, Sherlock." He reached across the table slowly and took his husband's hand, running his thumb over the man's knuckles.

Shit, he had over stepped just now hadn't he? Oh thank God. John wasn't yelling at him or throwing things at him for being an idiot. Sherlock looked down at their hands and he hesitantly brought up his other one to clasp over his husband's. He had originally planned on staying away for a long time, maybe a couple of months but just this small contact made him realize he could never do that. Shit, he wanted to come home _now._ That, however, would most certainly be pushing his luck.

The warmth of Sherlock's hand over his own made John grin like an idiot. "The end of the week, I think," he whispered as he pulled Sherlock's hand a bit closer. "I love you but I still...just need some time." A smile tugged at the end of his lips. "Aside from that, the children might tear the flat apart if you haven't come back. Two kids on my own...it is a difficult task." He laughed and lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss across his husband's knuckles.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, of course. I understand. Whenever you are ready, I'll come home." And now John was kissing his knuckles. He was going to have to take a shower after this visit. He bit his lip to prevent noise coming out and he squirmed a bit before he crossed his legs. He moved his hand away slowly. "I…erm…probably best if that didn't continue…" He tried to give his husband a smirk but it faltered and his gaze dropped once more.

Oh. Right. "Whoops," John said with a bit of a laugh, biting his bottom lip. "Not intentional, I swear." He laughed slightly and looked around the cafe. No shagging. He had decided that the night before. They would both get tested, make sure they were clean. He couldn't risk it and...the thought of that kind of intimacy with Sherlock scared him slightly. Not after what had just happened. "I have...only got the kids watched for another half an hour so I should probably go." Well, this was awkward now.

"Yeah. Okay." Sherlock tried really hard not to squirm in his chair. God, he was going to have to wait for John to leave before he decided to get up. He wasn't going to make it back to the hotel, not like this. He would just use the restroom once his husband was gone. He could still feel John's lips on his skin. He couldn't get his mind off his husband doing other wonderful things to his body.

"It was good seeing you." John turned his gaze back to Sherlock and smiled. "Take care of yourself. Just a few more days." He cleared his throat. Just his touch had turned his husband on. When did he end up having that much influence on Sherlock? "Could you call tonight? Amy won't sleep without one of your stories."

"Oh, I will be taking care of myself _real_ soon." Sherlock couldn't help the smirk that had twitched onto his lips. He wanted to get of the chair and hug John goodbye but that would not be a good idea right now. "Yes, of course I will call. I have spoiled her with the bed time stories, haven't I?" He shifted in his chair again trying to get more comfortable, but it was difficult at the moment.

John blushed and looked away for a moment. It was odd to think that Sherlock would relieve himself, that he wouldn't be helping. "Have a good day. I love you." He took a deep breath and bent down, a hand grabbing the back of Sherlock's neck before he placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "I am going to have her ready for bed around eight. I will text you." God, he didn't want to go home without Sherlock but he didn't want to break, didn't want to let his husband think everything was all right.

Christ, now John was just teasing him. Sherlock inhaled the scent of his husband. Not something he had ever really done, but now he wanted to be able to hold onto to whatever he could. He didn't trust himself to return the kiss or touch, because he would probably fall apart into an emotional mess. He thought he was over that now, past it, but now John was leaving and he wouldn't be home for a few days and it was like his heart was breaking all over again. He turned his head away with the faintest of nods.

It wasn't hard to see that Sherlock had changed so much in just a minute. From smiling and joking to frowning, heartbroken. John shifted on his feet slightly and cleared his throat. "Do you want to take me to the hotel you are staying at? I dunno, I could check it out or something." He shrugged. Clearly desperate to stay with Sherlock despite the fact he wouldn't admit it. "I am sure Mrs. Hudson would understand."

Sherlock wanted to say yes to that, but he slowly shook his head. If he agreed it would just give him a sense of false hope. That something could happen between them or that they would go back to pack his bags and get to go home. "It will just be harder, the longer you stay." The admission was slow, hesitant. At least his erection was gone. However he wasn't really sure that was something he would count as a plus right now.

"Right. Yeah. Of course." John nodded his head and lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I understand, it is fine." His emotions were all over the place. The need to be close to Sherlock was so strong but he knew they needed some time apart. "I do love you. So much." He swallowed hard and took another step toward the door. "Talk to you tonight then."

"I love you too." Sherlock watched John leave, but even after his husband was gone he just sat there. He didn't want to go back to the hotel. He ended up ordering a cup of tea and managed to spend over an hour just sipping it slowly. Eventually he left the café but he didn't go back to his hotel room. He just meandered the streets of London with no real destination in mind.


	9. Chapter 9

John walked into the flat with a bit of a frown, Mrs. Hudson matching it as she handing Amy off. The girl smiled and babbled on endlessly about what she did with 'Gramma Hudson' while he was out. She believed he had been helping Papa with a case, which was always good. He had set her down on the couch and moved to start preparing lunch for Thomas and Amy when he realized his phone was gone. "Amy, have you seen my mobile?"

"No, Dada." A giggle.

"Amy..." John popped out of the kitchen in time to see her hide it behind her back, clearly guilty.

"Just said hello to Papa," Amy replied proudly as she finally hit send.

_kajdIDjklasdij_

"Thomas, mate, what do you want for dinner?" John moved and gently grabbed his mobile, pocketing it without reading the text Amy had sent to Sherlock.

Thomas shrugged. "Whatever." He didn't care. He had heard the yelling from last night. He knew something was wrong. That his dads were fighting… _again_. He didn't really think Daddy was out on a case but the lie kept Amy happy so he went along with.

John tensed and looked at Thomas, mouth ajar for a moment before he looked at Amy. Still distracted. "We should talk," he said softly to their son, motioning his head back to the table in the kitchen. "Do you want to sit down?"

Thomas sighed but followed after his Dad. "What did I do now?" It seemed like just when he thought he was done getting in trouble, he found his way back into it. He slumped into a chair at the table with another sigh.

John sat next to him and bit his bottom lip. "You haven't done anything, Thomas. You have behaved, you are staying caught up with your school work. I am proud of you." Simple enough way to start off the conversation. "Did you hear Daddy and I fighting the other night? Is that why you're a bit upset right now?"

Apparently Dad was just as good at reading people as Daddy. Thomas shrugged. "Does it matter? You two always fight about something. Adults fight, whatever. I get it. It's just…Daddy has never left before. Is he going to come back? Are you and Daddy getting divorced?" He paused before adding in a rush. "I want to live with him, not you!"

John's first instinct was to frown, his mouth open as he struggled to find words. He had always known that Thomas preferred Sherlock over him by a large amount but...hearing it. Actually hearing it straight from Thomas had knocked the air from his chest. "I...he is coming back at the end of the week and we aren't getting a divorce," he whispered brokenly, licking his lips and locking his eyes on the table. Don't yell. Yelling at Thomas wouldn't do any good.

"Daddy shouldn't be by himself! I want to go stay with him!" Thomas was standing and yelling now. Tears brimmed his eyes. "It isn't fair! You have Amy! You shouldn't get us both! What about Daddy? You're…you are selfish and mean! I…I hate you!" He took off running, tears streaming down his cheeks now. He slammed the door to his room and threw himself on his bed, sobbing loudly.

John watched Thomas for a long moment and dropped his head. God, he wanted to tell their son that Sherlock couldn't have the kids that it was too dangerous and they couldn't risk it but he had to respect his husband. Telling the kids would tear the family apart more. "Wonderful," he whispered as he watched Amy move into the kitchen. She grinned at John and climbed into his lap, curling against his chest.

* * *

John had tried calling Sherlock's mobile several times before having to try and tell Amy a story himself. It had taken forever to get her to stop crying and lay still. Despite the horrid plot line, she had managed to fall asleep curled against his chest. He had no choice but to stay in her small bed with her. He turned his head slightly to the side and looked at Thomas. "I'm sorry," he whispered with a bit of a frown.

Thomas bowed his head. "Dad…I don't hate you…I'm sorry…" He whispered quietly and would have crawled into the bed but it was too small to fit all three of them. "Dad…I'm worried about Daddy. He wouldn't just…not call or answer for Amy's bedtime story. Something's wrong. C-can I call Uncle Gregory please?"

John smiled weakly and shifted on the bed. Thomas would come over here, he wanted to make sure of it. The little boy was his son no matter how far apart they seemed to be. "C'mere kiddo," he whispered, opening his arm up so Thomas would have at least half of his chest to lay on. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Daddy and I talked today and I think he might be a little busy with some things. It will be all right, I promise."

Thomas frowned. "Busy? Even when he took cases he still took the time to call or even come home for Amy! Don't…don't you care about Daddy anymore?" How could Dad be so calm? Was he just being childish and worrying for no reason? He bit his bottom lip and eventually moved over to his Dad, leaning his head into John's chest and began crying once more.

John turned his head and placed a kiss on the top of Thomas's. "Of course I care but I talked to him today and he said he was going to be busy." Lie. He was just as worried as Thomas but it wouldn't do any good to worry the kids. It would end up making more of a mess. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. I will stay here with you tonight."

Thomas frowned deeper still. "I'm going to use the loo." He shuffled out the door and crept to the telephone in the living room. He didn't know Uncle Gregory or Mycroft's mobile numbers. He sighed and dialed 9-9-9. He wasn't supposed to unless it was an emergency but his Daddy was missing. Something was _wrong_! Why couldn't Dad see that? He sniffled back tears as the operator picked up. "My Daddy is missing. His name is Sherlock Holmes. I live at 221B Baker Street. Gregory Lestrade is my uncle, if you could send him I would be much obliged ma'am." Grandma would be proud he figured, she had drilled propriety and manners into him the first day the met her.

It didn't take long for Lestrade to get the call, taking the stairs two at a time to get uo to the living room. "Thomas? Thomas!" He jogged into the kitchen with a confused look. "What's wrong, mate?"

Thomas threw his arms around Uncle Gregory, crying. "Something is wrong with Daddy! I just know it! Dad wouldn't let me call you on his mobile so I called the emergency number. Please, you have to find him! He didn't call for Amy's bed time story! He _always_ calls, even when working!" He cried into his uncles clothes. "Please find him," he repeated desperately. Would his uncle listen? Adults never listened to kids, something he never understood. Would he have to go look for Daddy on his own?

Lestrade frowned and held Thomas close, looking up when John entered the room. Amy was left upstairs in favor of clearing everything up. Lestrade knew instantly. That moment when a parent wanted desperately to protect their kids and to hide the truth. "Thomas mate, I will see what I can do but your Daddy told me he was very busy."

John sighed on relief and crouched down in front of his son, pulling him against his chest so he could continue to cry.

Thomas pulled away angrily. "Why does everyone keep saying that!" He just didn't understand adults. He had seen his Dad try and call Daddy a lot when it was time for Amy to go to bed but Daddy never answered. "Why won't anyone believe me?" He sank to his knees, still crying. He just wanted someone to take him seriously.

John frowned and looked up at his brother-in-law. "Thomas, sometimes adults tell kids little lies so they don't get upset." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Uncle Gregory is going to look for your Daddy, all right? We will find him. I promise." He leaned forward and pulled Thomas close again. Damn it. He was a horrible father. "I promise. Everything is going to be all right."

Lestrade met John's gaze for a moment and nodded, grabbing his mobile and making a call.

That made Thomas look up at his Dad. "What do you mean 'lies'? What…what aren't you telling me? You know, don't you? What happened to Daddy? Where is he? Can I go see him? Please! Don't keep me away from my Daddy…" He dropped his head again. He couldn't stop the tears coming down his face. He had been adopted into a cursed family, hadn't he?

Did he tell Thomas and risk pissing off Sherlock? John bit his bottom lip and looked at their son. "Right now I don't know where Daddy is. We got into a fight because...Daddy did something very wrong. And I promise we are going to find him. I promise you." He was determined now. "But you cannot hate Daddy."

Hate Daddy? Why would he ever hate his Daddy? His eyes narrowed at the thought. "Don't be stupid! I would never hate Daddy, no matter what he does! He's…he's my hero…" He trailed off as he suddenly realized the first thing he had just said to his Dad. Right. That will probably get him into trouble. He muttered an apology preemptively just in case.

"It is fine. Daddy is just in a bit of trouble and we are going to figure it out." John looked up at his brother-in-law. Lestrade nodding and heading down the stairs of the flat. "Do you want to go lay on the couch with me. Will that make you feel better?" He lifted his hand and ran it through Thomas's hair, trying to pull him forward a bit.

Thomas chewed on his bottom lip until it was raw. "Wh-what kind of trouble?" He was suddenly scared now. What could his Daddy have done that was so bad? "Is Daddy…a bad man?" Was everything he thought he knew a lie? Had they been lying to him this whole time? He was going to be sick. He ran to the bathroom and didn't bother to close the door. He leaned over the toilet and began vomiting.

John winced and followed after his son, kneeling behind him and gently rubbing his back. "Shhh, Thomas. Daddy didn't do anything wrong. He is just fine and I know it. Shh," he placed a gentle kiss on the back of the kid's neck. "You're all right. Calm down."

Eventually his stomach became empty and all Thomas was doing was dry heaving. How could he trust anything his Dad said anymore? John had just said adults lie to kids. Everything was _wrong!_ So very, very wrong. Nothing made sense anymore. This was just all too much. Maybe he didn't belong here like he thought he did.

"C'mere," John whispered and pulled Thomas against him, biting his bottom lip as he tried to calm the boy down. "Not everything we say is a lie. What is happening right now isn't something I should tell you. It is something Daddy should tell you." There. Maybe that would help. "It's all right. Shhh." What else could he do? He was failing as a parent.

Once more Thomas clung to his Dad like his life depended on it. He didn't know what to do or say. He was quiet a long while except for the occasional, racking sob muffled by John's shirt. "Will Daddy even tell me, if I ask? Will he lie to me too? I don't…I don't know what to believe anymore Dad. Everything…is just…it's all gone wrong…"

John closed his eyes and tried to think of what to say. "I think he will when you are old enough. It is a very serious issue and very much an adult issue but-" A pause before he placed a kiss on Thomas's hair. This was horrible. Hearing his child cry broke his heart. "It is just is not my place to tell you, kiddo. But I can be here for you, I can lay with you on the couch. Will that help? You just really need some sleep."

That was grownups explanation for _everything_. 'It's an adult thing. You'll understand it when you are older.' Or 'We'll explain it to you later when you are old enough to understand.' Thomas sighed, slumping against his Dad heavily now. "Don't think I could sleep right now even if I wanted to."

"C'mon." John stood up with a small grunt, holding Thomas close to him as he moved to the living room. It took a bit to get them comfortable but he ended up on his back with the boy's head on his chest. "My little boy, it will all work out. I promise." He reached over to grab the remote, turning the telly on and settling on some infomercial. "What's your favorite song? I could sing to you."

Thomas snuggled into his Dad, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Daddy said to never let you sing to me. That…" He paused, not sure he should tell the secret or not. Would Dad get mad at Daddy again? Would this make Daddy stay away longer? "…He said you were terrible at it…"

Oh God. John snorted and wrapped his arms tightly around his son. "Your Daddy is very right. I used to sing when I was in Afghanistan and I tried singing to him one night. It...wasn't very good." He smirked and watched a bit of the infomercial. "You are probably loads better than me." He tilted his head slightly to look at Thomas. "Do you want to sing to me?"

Thomas shook his head. "Don't feel like singing. My stomach is in knots still and my throat hurts. I'm not very good anyway…" He doubted he was actually any good at it. He enjoyed singing but he didn't feel like he had a talent for it. That's why Uncle Gregory was going to teach him, right? Because he wasn't any good in the first place?

"I've heard you in the shower, Thomas," John said with a grin. "You're actually fantastic and after a few lessons with Uncle Gregory I imagine you will be good enough to sell out concert halls," he whispered softly. It would be wonderful to have Thomas doing something that he actually wanted to do. Perhaps it would cheer him up, make him happier around the house. "The best singer I have ever heard."

Concert hall? He would have to sing in front of an audience? Thomas sang because he liked it. He had never really had an expectation or aspiration to perform for anyone. "D-do I have to?" The thought made him nervous. Besides, he was going to grow up to be just like Uncle Gregory. How could he do that if became a singer?

Oh. Maybe John had gotten a little ahead of himself. "No, mate, of course not. If you want to take lessons and sing in the shower for the rest of your life, you can do that, too. You can save people during the day like Uncle Gregory and sing to your shower at night." He smiled a bit and let his body relax, humming instead of singing to see if it would distract his son a bit.

"Do you think I could do it? I guess..I just never thought about it… Being in front of all those people. Is it stupid that makes me nervous and scared? I'm going to make a terrible Detective Inspector if I'm afraid of stupid sissy things like a crowd…" Thomas trailed off and for the first time since his childhood dream of being just like Uncle Gregory he doubted himself. Doubted he could do it. Would be any good? He was just going to be a failure, wasn't he?

"When you grow up you won't be afraid of anything. You are going to be tall, strong." John smiled and leaned his head forward so he could whispered, "And the best Detective Inspector that London has ever seen." Now wasn't the time for negative thoughts to be in the boy's head. If he could keep Thomas positive then the rest of the night wouldn't be as bad. "I was afraid of being a doctor but the moment I did it...I didn't really have time to be afraid. I got so focused on what I needed to do that everything came easy. Being a copper, it'll be the same for you."

Thomas nodded a bit but now he was getting tired. It had been a very emotionally past couple of days and it was finally taking its toll on him as it all caught up to him at once. "Dad…I'm tired…going to sleep now. I love you." He lifted his head to kiss his Dad on the cheek and then snuggled a little more into John's chest, his body finally relaxing as his eyes closed.

John smiled warmly, one hand resting on Thomas's lower back as he rubbed gentle circles into the skin. No sleeping. With one child on his chest and the other one their room he just couldn't risk it. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Sherlock had felt his mobile go off and saw there was a message from John. He frowned as he read it and came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Was something wrong? Should he text back? Ignore it? Maybe call? He was so lost in thought he didn't hear the four men who coming up to him. Eventually they registered. He lifted his head slowly with narrowed eyes. Of course he had walked to the more…unsavory side of London. He wouldn't be able to fight them all off, unless they were really stupid. He was able to do okay for awhile but eventually, two of them had his arms twisted behind his back and the other two kicked and punched his body repeatedly until he fell unconscious. The thugs stripped him clean of his coat, scarf, clothes and all other personal effects. He laid naked on the sidewalk, in pool of his own blood.

It didn't take long for a police car to respond but without any sort of identification the only thing the young Constable could do was call an ambulance. They rushed Sherlock to the nearest hospital and listed him as unidentified. What else could be done, really? The man's face was hardly recognizable and the fact that he was found naked gave investigators all sorts of ideas to go off of.

Cuts and bruises covered Sherlock's body. He looked like a mess. The doctors didn't find that surgery was necessary but stitches and a blood transfusion were done. He had bandages where stitches weren't needed. He was under heavy drug medication so he would sleep, so his body could repair itself quicker.

Sherlock woke up late in the evening. He groaned, only able to open one eye. His left was swollen shut. Of course, a fucking hospital. He had successfully avoided one for almost three years. It took him a moment to remember what had happened. He had offered to give up his money and mobile but apparently those four men didn't want to do things the easy way. He couldn't get robbed by normal muggers, could he? They had started the fight and he wasn't just going to stand there and take it, but in the end he lost. John probably didn't even know he was here. Shit. He was supposed to tell little Sandi a story tonight. His husband would never forgive him now.

"He's awake," the young nurse said softly, his smile warm as he grabbed Sherlock's charts. "Welcome back to the conscious world. We are asking that you not talk right now because we're worried your jaw is severely injured." He wrote something down and moved back to the end of the bed. "Nod yes or no, will you? Do you remember what happened?"

Sherlock looked at the nurse as best he could with one eye. He nodded slowly, groaning afterward in pain. He wiggled his limbs experimentally, at least nothing was broken. They were worried about his jaw though. Dislocated maybe? It was hard to pin point where all the pain was. He wasn't sure if it was because it was all over or because he was on some really strong drugs. Oh no. God no. No drugs. The doctors here wouldn't know not to give him any.

"That's good. You are just pretty beat up right now. We're going to put you back under for a bit before we get some more information to you, all right?" He set the chart back on the end of the bed and moved to Sherlock's I-V, messing with it slightly before more drugs rushed into Sherlock's system.

Sherlock's eyes went wide and shook his head as violently as he dared, but it was too late. He tried to fight the drugs, but eventually he passed back out into a drug induced sleep.

It had taken quite a bit of searching. Honestly, how many hospitals took in unknown men at night? A young male nurse led him into a room, his last stop before he gave up the search for a while. The figure in the bed was certainly tall enough to be Sherlock but everything about the person was so beat up it was tough to recognize. Should he stay, wait for the man in the bed to wake up? He couldn't talk, according to the nurse, but writing shouldn't be too difficult of a task.

Lestrade shifted and looked around the hospital room. The man was still sleeping. Certainly drugs to help keep the pain away. Without clothes, without ID, everything was difficult to determine. After pacing the room for a while, Greg fell into the chair next to the bed with a sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock slept until the next day in his drug induced sleep. At first he was disoriented and confused until it all came back to him as soon as he shifted with a grimace of pain. It took him a moment to realize Lestrade was in the room. Why wasn't John here instead? Shit. He hurt all over. He fixed his one eye on the Detective Inspector. He wasn't supposed to be talking. He sighed his frustration, hoping _Gregory_ would notice him. It was hard to tell from his vantage point but it looked like his brother-in-law was sleeping.

Well, sleeping in a chair certainly hadn't been the best of ideas, had it? But the night had been rough, he had seen the sacrifice of a parent for his children...and he'd hopefully found Sherlock. He groaned and shifted in the chair, rolling his head to either side to see if it would help relieve the tension in his neck, and looked at the figure in the bed. That...well, eye. The other one was swollen shut but there was no mistaking that gaze. "Sherlock, oh God." He grinned with relief, instantly pulling out his phone to send a text.

_Hospital. Mugged but awake. No ID whatsoever. Could probably bring kids by later. - GL_

"Thomas...he was worried and John had to keep him calm." Greg stood up and inspected his brother-in-law with a frown. "God, Sherlock..."

Sherlock managed a twisted smirk on his split lip. Thomas had been worried? John was probably pissed. Would everyone get the wrong idea about what he had been up to on that side of town? Everyone probably hated him and thought he was a failure. The truth was he hadn't even been paying attention to where he was going at the time. Would anyone believe him? He sighed at his thoughts. Maybe Lestrade would give him a pen and paper soon to try and explain. He was too tired to try and ask with his hands, despite all the sleep he had recently.

Lestrade pulled his small memo notebook from the inside of his jacket, handing off one of his pens slowly. "John tried to lie to him so he wouldn't know and...he is too smart for that, just like you." He smiled warmly and shifted on his feet. It had been positively chilling to watch John have to hold in his emotions to get their son calm. "Tell me what happened...we are all a bit worried. John knows now that we have found you."

Sherlock gave a slight nod, grimacing from the pain that small movement made. He wrote with some difficulty, his fingers busted and bruised but luckily not broken. 'Four men. Tried to just give them my wallet but I guess they read about me or saw me on the news. Knew my name. Where I lived.' He paused as it finally hit him. His family may be targeted as well because of him. He scribbled with haste. 'Everyone is okay?'

Lestrade took the information in before nodding. "All fine. Thomas is just worried. John looked worn down. Two kids will do that." He licked his lips and studied Sherlock once more. For a moment he realized how lucky he was to find the man. "Have you two talked? I mean...about moving back in and all that?" Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he couldn't help but ask.

Sherlock relaxed marginally and gave a fractional nod. He didn't really feel like talking about this with Lestrade. He wrote out a reply anyway. 'Yes, I am supposed to move back in at the end of the week." However, it was probably unlikely now. He had taken quite a beating and he doubted that the hospital would allow him to leave in a few days. He added to the paper as an afterthought, 'I will give you a detailed and more accurate story when I can talk. It will be easier, for both of us.'

Lestrade nodded again, shifting in his seat. It bugged him that Sherlock had turned back to drugs but it was Sherlock's life, wasn't it? It just made him uncomfortable, especially because he had missed it and then let his brother-in-law go. "We have got treatment plants, y'know? I mean, if you want to do one. Completely optional and such but I imagine it could help. I don't know how strong the stuff was but you will probably go through some withdrawals, yeah?"

Sherlock glared at Lestrade. It was too much effort to move his whole body so his back was to the Detective Inspector, so he just turned his head away instead. He preferred just dealing with the withdrawal on his own. It would make him miserable for awhile and being around him would be more insufferable than usual but he was far too stubborn and prideful to ever accept help from anyone else.

Right. Naturally Sherlock was going to be a stubborn git. "I am sorry, all right? But I'm not just looking after you anymore, am I? This isn't like a few years ago when we were both single and could sit up in your flat and wait for your withdraws to go away. We've got families now and I don't have time to protect you, even though that's John's job now...and neither does he. He's got children to raise with you," his voice dropped off hesitantly. "I...just want to help you, all right?"

Sherlock still refused to look at Lestrade. Maybe he should stay away longer, like he had planned. He would just stay away until the drug withdrawal gradually went away. He would probably go through most of it here at the hospital anyway at this point. Assuming they took him off the damn medicine. It would mean his body would be in a world of hurt if they did, but he didn't care. He sighed at his thoughts and slowly turned to face the Detective Inspector again. He wrote on the pad of paper. 'Tell them to stop giving pain medication.'

"Stubborn git," Lestrade muttered as he nodded, despite his best instincts. He knew what was going to happen, knew how Sherlock was going to act. It wasn't going to be very pretty. "John...wants to know when he and the kids can come by. Thomas and Amy...they miss you," he whispered. It hurt seeing the family apart, watching everything happened. He hated it more than he thought he would. Hell, it wasn't even his family. "Y'know how bad you are going to hurt, right?"

Sherlock closed his eyes in thought before giving a small but definitive nod of his head. He opened his eyes so he could write another note to Lestrade. 'I am well aware. They can come whenever they want. I would rather the children don't see me like this though…it might scare them. I haven't looked at myself in the mirror lately, but I am sure I look like I got run over by freight train.' He managed a small smirk at that.

"At least John? He is dying to see you. His texts are near constant," Lestrade said with a bit of a smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will watch them, she loves them to de-"

The door burst open, John panting for breath as he studied his husband. "Sherlo-" He stopped to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. "Sherlock, oh God." He moved toward the bed, a hand over his mouth as he took everything in. It was only a moment before his body tensed, anger rushing through him. "I am going to bloody find them," he growled.

Sherlock was about to write a response to Lestrade when the door opened. He smiled when he saw John. Just writing had hurt and he knew using sign language would be even more painful, because it would require more movement but he didn't care. 'Hi. No worries. I am fine.' Except he wasn't and he knew he looked like shit, but almost being beaten to death would do that. He dropped his hands to his side, ignoring the throbbing aches. The pain was going to get worse eventually once they stopped giving him medication.

"Fine?" John smiled weakly and reached a hand out, freezing right before he touched Sherlock. "God, I'm sorry. I should've...I don't know, not kicked you out? This is all my fault, isn't it? I did this... all of it." He dropped his head and took several deep breaths, jumping a bit when he realized that Lestrade hadleft to give them some privacy. "You are coming back home the moment you can. You can't...I need to be there for you." Selfish, probably, but he didn't care. He did need to take care of his husband.

With effort Sherlock lifted his hands again to use sign language. 'Not your fault. They were bigoted cowards. They took everything off me to humiliate me, not to rob me. I think...' He paused because God his fingers needed to rest. '…I think they targeted me, because of who I am. We should keep an eye on the children just in case.' Was he just worrying for no reason? If something happened to his family because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Sure. Yeah, of course," John agreed quickly, gently grabbing his husband's hands. It probably hurt to do all of that and he couldn't handle watching Sherlock be in pain. He had vowed to try and remember what Sherlock had done, why they weren't living together, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now, not with his husband like this. "I love you. God, I love you so much." He never wanted this to happen ever again. "Can I kiss you? Please? Just soft...just one."

Sherlock squeezed John's hands lightly as soon as they were taken in by his husband. He gave a small nod, consenting to the kiss. God, he needed it. Needed the love and comfort only John could ever offer. He didn't deserve it still, did he? Despite the brutal beating he had received, he still felt like he should suffer more. It was stupid and irrational but he still felt unworthy of his family.

"Okay," John whispered with a weak, shaky smile. "Good. That's..." He stopped talking to bend at his waist, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. It was quick, he couldn't risk re-splitting his husband's lip or hurting his jaw, but just the feeling of Sherlock's lips made him relax. "I...can't stay all night. Lestrade said you didn't want the kids to see you and Mrs. Hudson...has a date, apparently." He grinned like an idiot and moved a hand to gently rest on his husband's cheek. Just touching him, being close...it was something he realized he had desperately missed.

Those lips. Just that small kiss. Sherlock had closed his eyes the moment he felt John's lips on his. So soft and perfect. After a moment of quiet contemplation he lifted his hands to sign at his husband again. 'I know the children are upset. I just don't want to upset them further by having to look at my horrible state.' A hesitant pause. 'Do you think it would be better or worse if they saw me now?' He had already caused his family enough trouble and pain. He didn't want to add to it by the children seeing him looking like this. But if they came, then John would stay? Maybe? Christ. He was being selfish, wasn't he?

"I don't know," John whispered. "Thomas, probably not. He is strong and just really misses you. Amy...hard to tell." It was true. Their daughter didn't like anything scary at all. Screaming and crying probably wasn't the best for a hospital, either. "I could try. They miss you, Sherlock and...God, I miss you so much." And he wanted to stay, wanted to be in the hospital with his husband, comfort him and hold him close. "Thomas will probably climb all over you. Think you're ready for that?"

Sherlock smirked at that but nodded anyway. 'He will be fine, I think. Thomas managed not to climb on me in the hospital last time.' Another pause in his hand movements. 'I have asked the hospital to stop giving me pain medication.' He dropped his hands and gaze after that. John would understand, of that he was certain but would it make his husband hate him all over again about the drugs he had used recreationally? The drugs that had gotten him kicked out. The drugs that had ruined his family. All his fault, all of it. Yes, he had certainly deserved the beating. At least in his mind, he had.

John had expected Sherlock to say something like that but hearing it made him wince. That couldn't be very comfortable at all, especially with the amount of movement Sherlock had been doing since he had come in. "I am sure Mrs. Hudson could bring them over, take a taxi," he whispered as he squeezed Sherlock's hand softly. No use in hurting him further. "And...I am proud of you. I mean, you must be in a lot of pain and yet...you are doing it because you know you should." He smiled and bit his bottom lip. "My anchor," he whispered with a clear blush.

Sherlock looked back up to John with a small smile. He reached a hand up to run along his husband's cheek lightly. "Love you," he managed to force out verbally, but his voice was scratchy from being unused recently. He had to wiggle his jaw a bit, so it would sit right again. Yes, definitely dislocated. They probably hadn't fixed it while he was sleeping because even with medication it would hurt to reset and waking up to something like that would be hellacious.

How in the world had he ever kicked Sherlock out of his house? John's heart clenched and he swallowed hard. "I want you to come back home. Can you? Please? Can you please come back home? I will take you home after you are released and I'll take care of you. I can't stay without you anymore." The fact that he was this dependent on Sherlock did scare him a bit but it made him realize there was a reason he had married the man in the first place. He couldn't picture anymore of his life without Sherlock.

All this movement had been exhausting. Even though he had slept for almost a whole day he was already tired. Even with pain medication wearing off, he was still feeling the pull of sleep. 'Do you mind if I sleep a bit? I am tired.' Even before a response could be given, his eyes slipped closed. Without the drugs to force a deep slumber, nightmares found him quickly. The sleep didn't last long and he woke up breathing heavily, bolting upright and with a loud scream. His body was racked with pain and his eyes looked around wildly and unfocused. John…the children…no… The heart monitor beeping loudly and frantically didn't even register. He was still partially lost in the nightmare.

John had relaxed back into his chair with a small sigh. No answer. What was he supposed to make of that? He shifted, made himself comfortable, and right as his eyes closed Sherlock woke up. He jumped to his feet, moving to frame his husband's face with his hands. "Shhh, Sherlock," he whispered. Calm. Loving. Make the environment welcoming and memorable. "Shhh, I'm here. Sherlock, you are fine. I am here." He met his husband's gaze as he ran a hand through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock pulled away from John initially, still lost in the throes of dream that had disturbed him so. It took a moment for him to realize his husband was there but eventually his eyes focused in on reality. He slumped into John heavily, not caring that the position was painful. He began crying, allowing the tears to fall without restraint. His clung to his husband desperately. By far, this was the worst nightmare he had ever had in his life.

It should scare him that he knew exactly what to do but John was thankful he knew how to handle this situation. "Sherlock, it is fine," he whispered into his husband's hair. "Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It's fine. It's all fine. I'm here." He turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock's temple. "If you calm down you will feel better, all right? You'll feel better. Do you want to talk about it? Why don't you talk about it?"

When Sherlock looked up at John the fear in his eyes was obvious. Talk about it? How could he ever talk about something like _that._ Just thinking about it made him feel sick. He twisted away from his husband and then vomited on the floor. His heart monitor was at least calming down, but he was far from feeling tranquil. He slumped back into John, not caring at the moment how pathetic and weak he looked.

Right. So...horrible. John winced and wrapped his arms around Sherlock as tight as he would dare, not wanting to hurt him at all. "I'm here. You are doing fine, calming down." That look of fear was obvious, he knew that's what he looked like when he woke up, when he remembered. How did Sherlock deal with it each time? "Maybe you feel a little better now," he said with a forced chuckle.

Sherlock wasn't supposed to be talking but he didn't care. "The four men who came after me…they killed you. Killed the children. Made me watch as they tortured you all…Left me alive…couldn't do anything to stop them…" He leaned over and threw up a second time, only all that came up this time was bile. He had already emptied all of his stomach contents the first time. He was never going to sleep again, was he? He had to protect his family. Keep them safe. And Christ, he didn't want to ever have that dream again.

"I'm here, yeah? I'm right here. Just fine. And look, look," John grabbed his phone, a text from ten minutes ago with a picture of Thomas holding Amy, grinning eagerly at the camera. "See. They're fine. They're perfectly fine. We're all here, it isn't your fault. Nothing is wrong." He gently placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead before pulling away from his husband to quickly get a small glass of water. "Here, drink. Sips, just sips," he whispered as he supported Sherlock again.

Sherlock fell still for a long while, his mind still trying to cope with the false images. It had all been so real. And shit, thinking about it was literally making him sick to his stomach. He shook his head at the water, but he continued to cling to John tightly as if letting go would mean the nightmare would come true. "Sorry," he muttered and grimaced as he wiggled the jaw back into place. Talking really was a bad idea, but he wasn't ready to relinquish his husband yet to sign with his hands.

"If I can't apologize after my nightmares then you can't apologize after yours," John whispered as he held Sherlock securely. It was clear that's what Sherlock needed and he was willing to give it. "You are coming home. I don't care if it is selfish, I want you back home. I will take care of you. Please come back," he said weakly. Maybe this, as horrid as it all was, was exactly what they needed. "I love you."

Sherlock continued to hold onto John and he nodded at his husband's words. He was finally calming down, his grip loosening slightly. His head had been resting against John's shoulder and he lifted it to gently meet his husband's lips for a brief moment. Would John get upset? Should he had asked like his husband had earlier? He sighed at his thoughts, his head dropping back onto John's shoulder.

That kiss. It was soft, gentle...and reminded John so much of the first few days of them officially dating. It warmed his heart and he turned his head, dropped his shoulder, and gently returned the kiss. He couldn't help himself. After so many nights of Sherlock on a case, then this...he just constantly wanted Sherlock. To touch him, be near him, hold him close. "I love you."

Much better. So much better than when Sherlock had first woken up by the nightmare. John knew just what to do and say to make him feel better. He relaxed into his husband, turning his head so his nose could nuzzle into John's neck. "I love you too," he whispered against his husband's skin. He closed his eyes in contentment. He had been in need of this kind of comfort for awhile and he hadn't realized how much he had missed it until he was finally back in John's arms.

The angle was awkward for John, bent slightly at the hips, back arched to support Sherlock...but he could ignore that. This was helping Sherlock and he could feel it. "I could never live without you." He closed his eyes in contentment. God, he was going to have to leave tonight. That twisted his gut. Maybe he could get Thomas and Amy to sleep in their bed, keep him company. That would fix things, wouldn't it? "I am never kicking you out again. Ever. God, Sherlock, I am an idiot."

"Deserved it. Deserved everything that has happened to me…" Sherlock muttered, wincing once more as he put the jaw straight. He had, or at least he thought so. He was the one who had been an idiot and gotten back into drugs. And God, he had used while at the flat when the children were home. Were they coming tonight? Was John going to leave him if they didn't?

"No, you didn't deserve any of this," John whispered as he shifted to kneel on the bed, holding Sherlock closer. "You will never deserve anything. I promised your Mum after the island-" His voice broke and he took a deep, shaky breath. God, he was losing himself. "I promised your Mum that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promised and I have already let you down. I am a bloody idiot," he whispered.

Sherlock really wished someone would come in and set his jaw properly, because talking was starting to hurt. His own fault really. "I'm the idiot. I am the one who let the family down. You had every right to kick me out. To never want to see me again…to hate me…" He trailed off as he felt the familiar pang of popping his jaw back into place.

"I could never hate you," John replied instantly. "Never. I married you and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you." There was a pause, his arms tightening around Sherlock as he smirked. "You can't get rid of me that easily, you git," he said with a chuckle. Maybe if they joked a little things would get better, he would be able to stop himself from crying. "I am never doing that again. I can't handle being away from you. Every time I leaned in next to you I just...I smelled you. I couldn't help it. It is stupid and ridiculous but your pillow stopped smelling like you. I couldn't sleep."

"I'm sorry…" Sherlock whispered brokenly. "So sorry…" His head turned back into John's shoulder, his forehead pressing into it. He was never going to use drugs again, of any kind. The withdrawal was going to be horrible and harder, with having had been on such strong medication from the hospital. "I will be going through withdrawals in a day or so. Perhaps the children should come by now…I don't want to see them when I am like that…" Shit. His jaw. He lifted his head and brought his hands to his mouth. His eyes squeezed tight in pain, a loud 'pop' being heard as he finally snapped his jaw back into place on his own. Fuck, it hurt but at least it was finally back where it belonged.

"Sherlock!" John jumped and grabbed his husband's head, framing his face. "Oi, Sherlock...idiot," he whispered with a smile as he met Sherlock's lips. The kiss was slow and gentle because he couldn't help it, he never could. He needed to kiss his husband and remind himself that he was with Sherlock. "I think the kids will be able to handle it. Thomas will, at least. Hell, Amy is smart enough to realize it's you," he whispered before he kissed Sherlock again.

Sherlock smirked a bit and then returned the first kiss immediately. He was about to reply when John kissed him again. His eyes closed, savoring the lips against his. He brought a hand up to run through his husband's hair. The kiss was slow, gentle and perfect. Why didn't they kiss like this more often? Usually one of them or both in most instances were so turned on, that slow and gentle just didn't happen regularly. Maybe they were capable of just snogging after all. Or had they just grown in their relationship to the point that not everything needed to be sexual anymore?

God, he had wanted to kiss Sherlock like this since they had decided to not live together anymore. John exhaled slowly through his nose, twisting his body a bit more so he could continue the kiss but avoid straddling his husband. It would be too painful for Sherlock in this state and right now he was fairly sure that anything other than a kiss would push the limits he had set on them in his head. He slowly pulled away from the kiss, keeping his eyes closed and his mouth ajar. "I missed that just a bit," he finally whispered.

If moving didn't hurt so damn much, Sherlock would have gotten out of the bed to straddle John. He just wanted to be closer to his husband. He slowly pulled away and laid back down. "Need to rest a bit Love." He didn't want to leave John's warm, comforting embrace but damn it his body had been protesting sitting up since the start and he just couldn't take the pain anymore. "Sorry…wanted to stay curled up against you…" Shit. The pain was getting worse too. Probably meant the drugs were out his system now.

"It is fine," John whispered as he moved to lay down himself, holding Sherlock close. "You can stay in my arms as long as you want, dear. That is what husband's are for, right? I am here to protect you and keep you safe." A smile as he placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "And you are in pain. That's what I'm here for, too, yeah? To try and help you forget it. That's what I'm going to do." He kept Sherlock close to his chest even as the door opened. Mrs. Hudson didn't say a word, just looked at the two of them with a frown. Of course she knew. She always knew.

"Pa...pa?" Amy squeaked softly, hiding her face in Mrs. Hudson's neck. "Papa, dat you?"

Sherlock smiled as John laid next to him and leaned his head on his husband's shoulder. He didn't have the energy to lift his head to look at the door as it opened. "Hey Baby Girl. Yeah, it's me. Some really bad men hurt me, so I look really weird all right? There is no need to be scared."

Thomas pushed through at hearing his Daddy's voice but he stopped when he saw what state Sherlock was in. His lower lip quivered but he didn't cry. His Daddy looked worse than he did after the fights at school. "I knew something was wrong Daddy, I just knew it…" He trailed off, feeling and looking miserable.

The kids. God, the kids must have been terrified. John met his husband's gaze for a long moment before turning and looking at everybody. Thomas first. The boy was on the verge of tears. "Thomas, it is all right. If we stay calm Daddy will get some sleep and feel a lot better." He smiled as he kept one hand resting gently on Sherlock's side.

"Papa," Amy repeated before she looked at Mrs. Hudson. Her little face turned red and the hand in grabbing the woman's shirt for support curled into a fist. "'M gonna finded 'em and-and beat 'em up too!" She declared.

Sleep. The word made Sherlock tense involuntarily but he forced himself to relax afterward. He was with John and the children. Everything was fine now. "I'm fine Son, just a little banged up is all. I look worse than I feel." A lie really, especially with being off pain medication.

Thomas frowned but nodded slowly. He looked back to his sister. "Papa needs to rest Amy. How about we go to the gift shop and I will use my allowance to get you something? I think I saw a really soft stuffed puppy in there." He was having a hard time staying and coping with what he saw. Amy didn't seem to be doing any better. Distraction. They both needed one.

Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly and set Amy down. The little girl grabbed Thomas's hand right away. "Right dears, off to the gift shop we go," she said happily. Maybe the boys just needed some time alone. She opened the door for the kids and followed after them.

"You are doing really well," John whispered the moment the kids left. "I am proud of you," he added as he ran a hand through Sherlock's hair. Maybe he was so giddy because of the exchange he had just witnessed between their children. At the heart of it all, Thomas was a wonderful child. At least the school's principal understood that. "I am right here if you want to try and sleep. You need to rest."

Sherlock knew John was right and maybe being in his husband's arms would help him find a peaceful slumber. He nestled his head into John's shoulder a little more, burying the side with his good eye into it. His hand found his husband's and he intertwined their fingers. "Love you," he whispered as weariness washed over him. It took awhile for his mind to slow down enough for sleep to finally find him.

This was all good, very good. Sherlock's hand in his own. John moved and smiled warmly into his husband's unruly hair. "I love you," he whispered as he looked around the room for a moment. "And I am right here. You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you." Maybe that would help. Didn't it help him when Sherlock did it for him?


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock slept soundly this time around. It was easier to relax and not worry in his husband's arms. He woke up a few hours later, predominately due to the acute pain coursing through his whole body. Shit, maybe he shouldn't have refused the medication so soon but it just would have made the withdrawals worse. He sighed at his thoughts and tilted his head slightly to look up at John.

John felt the movement and looked down at his husband with a warm smile. "Good morning," he whispered with a grin. Sherlock, half asleep despite being beat up, was the most amazing he had ever seen. It was rare and he took it in as often as he could. "How are you feeling?" He placed a gentle kiss on his husband's lips. All he wanted was for Sherlock to feel better. That and for him to stop feeling so scared about Sherlock's withdrawals.

Lie? Tell the truth? Sherlock didn't want to worry John but his husband would probably figure it out anyway. "In a lot of pain," he admitted with clear hesitation. After a brief moment of contemplation he glanced back up to John. "Lestrade thinks I should go through a program. I have always just done it on my own, but…I have a family to consider now." Something he obviously hadn't considered when using drugs but he decided to keep that to himself. "What do you think I should do?" He didn't want to rely on some stupid program but the children shouldn't around to witness the withdrawal either.

The selfish part of John wanted to tell Sherlock that he could do it without a program, that he could take care of his husband. But the kids...he had seen withdrawals. They weren't pretty and with Thomas and Amy around it could end horribly. "How long would the program take?" He asked softly, clearly hesitant about saying yes. "Would it be in London? Or away from the flat?"

"I don't know. I will probably go through most of the withdrawal process here while I recover, but…" Sherlock trailed off, not liking the idea one bit. "…I should probably still go through a program. I am sure I can find something close to the flat, so I can come home. I could…join one of those anonymous programs." Except he was quasi famous now, people would know him. People could possibly talk, more than they already did. Who would want to hire a drug addict?

"We both know some anonymous program isn't going to work," John whispered brokenly. This was harder than he thought. Their fight had been horrid, living with Sherlock and this had been worse. But now they had to clean up. They had to fix everything. He paused and met his husband's gaze. "You don't want to, do you? Go through a program? I don't want to force you or anything but...maybe it will help for the future? Stop this from happening again?"

"No, I don't want to. It won't happen again John. It was a stupid, selfish mistake. I promise I won't make it again. Going would mean having to go to one of those private facilities. Mycroft would probably make them sign a confidentiality contract. I would be away from you and the kids for I don't know how long. Programs like that would have me stay at the facility." Was Sherlock just being selfish again? He didn't want to be away from his family any longer than he had to.

Now was not the time to fight but they needed to have this conversation. "You said you were never going to use drugs again when we started dating, when we got married, while I was in Afghanistan." John paused, swallowing hard and hesitantly meeting his husband's gaze. "I think a program might be best. I...I don't want to be that far away from you for that long but we need to think about the family."

"Six years John! I didn't use for six years! I had stuck to every single one of those promises…until recently…" Sherlock had started off yelling but by the time he was done speaking his words were broken. It was true though. When being hospitalized, he refused medication. He hadn't even smoked a cigarette when John had been away at Afghanistan. He had been injected with heroin against his will. He hadn't wanted that. Did John think he had? But now…he had been using the last couple of months. He failed John. Broken his promise. Would his husband ever trust him again? "Fine. Just go then. Just take the children and go. I will be home whenever…" He muttered and with agonizing pain and effort he turned his back to John.

Damn it. John closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to keep himself calm. That was what he figured would happen but it still hurt. "I am not leaving yet," he finally whispered, a bit of defiance in his voice. He shifted and moved closer to his husband, pressing his nose against the back of Sherlock's neck. "Don't do this. Please, don't do this." His arm lifted and wrapped it light around Sherlock's waist. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." There. Trying to fix things. "Just trying to help."

Sherlock wanted to jerk away from John but he had been craving contact and comfort from his husband the moment he had been kicked out. "Need you more than any drug, any day. I swear I won't use again. Please believe me. One more chance." His voice was broken and defeated. It had been difficult to turn the first time, so he just leaned into John as best he could and put his hand over his husband's.

It scared John because he had no idea if he could trust his husband. If Sherlock needed him more than any drug then why had he been using cocaine? It twisted his gut, made him want to shake his head and tell Sherlock no. A program or nothing. A program or divorce. "I...don't know," he finally whispered with a broken voice of his own. "I don't know."

"Please," Sherlock whispered in the same broken tone. He didn't deserve a second chance. He didn't deserve to have a family. "Please," he repeated. He realized he sounded desperate, pathetic and scared but he was certainly feeling all that right now. He honestly didn't think a program would help and not because he was trying to be stubborn but because the only way a person ever _really_ change was because they wanted to.

What did John say? Hell, if he said no then that was it, wasn't it? No more marriage, no more family. But saying yes...that meant bring a recovering drug user into the flat around the kids. The withdrawals would be nasty and he wasn't sure he could handle that, especially with Amy and Thomas around. "Okay but...I'm sleeping on the couch. I'm not sure I'm ready to be around you all the time. You can't yell at me or the kids, Sherlock. And if...if anything happens." He stopped and placed a soft kiss on the back of his husband's neck. "I'm trusting you."

Sherlock gave the faintest of nods and remained quiet for several minutes. "The worst of it should be over by the time I get out of here. If you think I am still doing poorly, I can go stay with my mother awhile." If he ended up going to the manor, Mycroft wouldn't be pleased he was certain but at least there he would be able to quarantine himself off in a wing of the mansion until John thought it was okay for him to be at the flat.

"I trust you," John replied softly. And he did, he always would. Sherlock was his husband. "I do. And I love you. Remember that," he whispered. It didn't take long for the lack of sleep to catch up with his exhausted body. Caring for two kids who hadn't really wanted to sleep had taken it out of him. "Love you," he whispered into the back of Sherlock's neck before he fell asleep pressed against his husband's back.

"Love you too," Sherlock whispered back, even though he could tell John had fallen asleep. He wasn't tired right now and even if he was he was certain it would be impossible to find sleep. His whole body was in constant pain from all the blows his body had received and his brain was far too active right now. The withdrawals would probably start soon, less than twenty-four hours of that was certain.

The door opened and Amy darted in eagerly, a large stuffed dog in her possession. "Papa!" She ran around the bed so she could face Sherlock, clearly no longer bothered by his appearance. "Papa, lookit what 'Mas boughted me!" She pushed it up on to the bed with a large grin.

John shifted slightly on the bed, groaning and pressing his face against the back of Sherlock's neck. Too loud, Jesus. He just wanted to sleep.

"Amy, dear, Daddy is trying to sleep," Mrs. Hudson said as she lifted a finger to her lips. Amy copied the motion but looked up at Sherlock with bright eyes.

That made Sherlock smile. How could he not smile when looking at his little girl? "Wow, Baby Girl. That was sure nice of him. Did you thank your brother?" He wanted to reach out and pull little Sandi to him but he didn't have the strength or energy.

Thomas slipped in quietly. It was hard keeping Amy smiling when all he wanted to do was find the nearest corner, curl up and cry. He slumped into the chair near the bed, placed his head on his Dad's hip and fell asleep.

Amy nodded furiously. "Course. I saided thank you and gived him a big hug." She grabbed the small dog back and moved around the bed, ready to give Thomas a bigger hug but noticed her older brother was asleep. "Oh. Papa, 'Mas is sleep." She moved back over to Sherlock's side. "So is Daddy. Does I have to sleep, too?"

John grumbled something into the back if his husband's neck, the hand against Sherlock's stomach tightening fractionally.

"Good. That's my Baby Girl." Sherlock smiled at little Sandi. "If you aren't tired you don't have to. I am not tired, so I'm not going. You can keep me company, but we need to try and be quiet so Daddy and Thomas can sleep." God, he had to have been some kind of idiot to do drugs when he had such an amazing little girl, an amazing family. Never again. It just wasn't a promise to appease John, it was something he meant and all be damned if he would let his conviction crumble.

Amy nodded and curled her lips into her mouth, holding the stuffed animal close to her chest. "Papa," she said in an exaggerated whisper. "I named him 'Erlock. Dat's your name." She grinned as she looked up at her Papa on the hospital bed. "Will Dada get jealous?" Her eyes scanned the bed before she found an easy way for her to get up, climbing and grunting as she finally got on the bed and sat in front of Sherlock with her back pressed against the bed's railing so she could watch him.

Little Sandi was amazing to Sherlock. The little girl could always make him smile like an idiot, no matter what his mood. He whispered back, "I think Daddy will understand." He watched Amy climb up onto the hospital bed, wishing he could have just been able to lean down and pick her up. He wanted to hold her close to his chest but he settled for reaching out his free hand to gently touch his daughter's face. The other hand remained over John's, his thumb running over his husband's knuckles soothingly.

Amy looked up at Sherlock at the touch of his hand, eyes bright and a smile very much like John's on her face. "Good. I like 'Erlock as a name," she whispered softly as she pulled the stuffed animal closer to her body. "How was your case, Papa? Did you win?" She glanced back up at Sherlock hopefully, curiosity written across her face.

Sherlock smiled at little Sandi. He had to drop his arm back down because it hurt too much to leave it extended. "Not yet Baby Girl, but soon. I still have to do a couple of things once I get out of the hospital." It was extremely painful but he forced his head forward and kissed the top of Amy's head. He slumped back into John, managing not to groan in pain. He did wince but hopefully his daughter had missed that.

"Otay but you haves to call me," Amy said with a nod. "I misseded my story last night." There was a pause before she craned her neck to look at Thomas, fast asleep against John's hip. Was she keeping Papa up? "I hope you catch the bad guy soon, Papa. Daddy gets really sad when you's gone. I dun like it." She looked down at her stuffed animal. "Like having you home."

That damn near broke Sherlock's heart. "I'm sorry Baby Girl." Should he try to explain to her that he hadn't been able to? That if he had been able to he would have called to tell her a bedtime story? Should he just let little Sandi be disappointed in him? John was. Thomas wasn't quite old enough to understand everything happening. Lestrade was disappointed in him. Mycroft was just disgusted with him. Mum, God did his mother know?

Amy giggled. "Papa, you's silly. I'm not mad at you." Her eyes were bright again, her cheeks pink. "Dada, he tried. Was boring," she whispered with wide eyes. It seemed like such a serious issue to her, the most important in the world. "But he nameded the hero 'Erlock. He rescued Amy," a pause, "Dat's me." She clarified proudly.

Sherlock managed a smile. John painted him as hero? That was certainly generous of his husband. He was far from being a hero, more like a failure. Being a husband and a father was a lot harder than he anticipated and he wondered if would ever get either right. The smile got bigger. "Wow, you were in a story? Are you sure it was boring? I bet it was amazing if the story had you in it."

Amy giggled again, hiding her face in her stuffed dog with a blush. "Papa, stop," she said against the toy, her words muffled. How embarrassing. Her Papa saying such wonderful things. He was _amazing_ and to hear that from him had made her day. "Your stories is the bestest," she declared with a smile, glancing at Sherlock for a moment. "But don't tell Dada that either."

Sherlock smirked. Well, little Sandi didn't get the modesty from him. It was probably for the best she took after John more than him. "It will be our secret Baby Girl," he whispered to his daughter confidentially. "Do you want a story now?" Would he be able to think of one, with his body in constant agony at the slightest movement?

Amy studied Sherlock for a long moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. It was very clear to her that Papa was in pain so she shook her head slowly. "No. 'S otay. You's hurting," she said softly. Her eyes were warm, understanding. For a moment she was wiser than her age. "Does you want to sleep? I could tell you a story." She declared with a nod as she squeezed the dog closer to her.

Sherlock arched a brow but smirked anyway. Little Sandi was very astute for her age. She wasn't even three yet. "I would love to hear you tell a story Baby Girl." He smiled at his daughter. He was a bit tired but he wasn't sure if he would be able to sleep. Even with Amy distracting him, it was difficult to ignore the pain his body was in.

Amy nodded her head eagerly, shifting a bit to get comfortable. "Right," she declared as she licked her lips. Clearly John Watson's child. "Once 'pon a time," she started slowly, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth with a small hum. "There was a han'some prince 'an his name was..." She looked around the room and then down at the stuff animal in her arms. "Dog. One day Dog went ou'side and saw a handsome other prince named... um... 'Mish. Yeah..." She nodded with a grin. "So Dog askeded 'Mish if he wanted to go to the playground and den they goted married like you and Daddy and lived happily every after."

Sherlock smiled as he listened to little Sandi tell the story. He remained quiet the entire time. "That was wonderful Baby Girl. I think I might sleep a bit. Do you want to sleep against me? You can if you want, I will be fine. We can have family nap time, just like at home." It was one of his favorite moments with the family, even though it involved sleeping.

Amy nodded and shifted on the bed, careful to avoid John's hand as she curled tightly against Sherlock's chest under his chin. "I wants to ask you a question but I can wait," she whispered with a yawn, squeaking a bit as her mouth shut. "Can wait," she repeated as her eyes slipped shut and she fell asleep almost instantly.

John groaned slightly, smirking against his husband's skin as he pressed closer to him. "I'm right here, you'll be fine," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

Sherlock refused to show a trace of pain as little Sandi curled into him. His free hand wrapped around her gently. The hand on John's gave a slight squeeze. He allowed his body to relax as much as he could considering the amount of pain his body was being subjected to. He let his eyes close and sleep finally found him once more.

Definitely family nap time. After a couple of hours, John let his eyes open slowly, taking his time in becoming fully awake. He couldn't exactly move, not with Sherlock in front of him and Thomas's head on his hip. He couldn't really complain. It only took him several seconds to take a deep breath, closing his eyes with a soft hum. "Sherlock, you're wonderful," he whispered. "I'm here. We're all here. You are fine."

Thomas groaned as he woke up slowly. He was still tired, but with all the talking and the awkward angle he slept, he probably wouldn't fall back asleep anytime soon. "Dad? Can I have some money for the cafe, please? I spent all mine on Amy." He sat up slowly, popping the cricks out of his neck.

John turned slightly on his side to look at Thomas, glancing at Sherlock for a moment before sliding off the bed. "Here," he whispered, reaching into his back pocket. "I will pay you back and then pay for dinner? How's that sound, kiddo?" He smiled and slipped Thomas's allowance into the boy's hand before crouching down in front of him. "I'm proud of you," he whispered, running a hand through the boy's hair and leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "You are the best older brother I have ever seen," he said with a smile before pulling him into a hug.

Thomas shrugged a bit at the praise, taking the money and shoving it into his pants pockets. "No big deal," he muttered with another shrug. He returned the hug tightly. When he released his Dad from the hug he looked up at John. "Is...is Daddy going to be okay?" He glanced over at Sherlock with a frown and then back over at his Dad.

John looked over at his husband's back and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Daddy is going to be just fine," he whispered as he looked back at their son. "I'm sorry about earlier Thomas. I wanted to keep you two calm and I couldn't do that by saying I had no idea where Daddy was. I hope you understand." He bit his bottom lip and chewed on it thoughtfully. "But you've done so well. You take care of Amy and you're...you're fantastic." He wrapped his arms tightly around his son and stood up, lifting Thomas off the ground. "You are fantastic."

Thomas shrugged yet again. "Is Daddy really going to be okay? Or is that one of those lies adults tell kids?" He chewed his lip, nervous about asking that question. "Dad…" He trailed off, trying to get out of John's grasp. "…I'm not a baby anymore," he finally added. Typical kid, going from needing comfort to wanting independence.

Right. Kids went through that phase. Thomas was older. John blushed slightly and set their son down, looking down at him. "I...sorry. I am just so proud of you and I kind of don't know what to do." He copied Thomas's nervous habit, lip pulled tightly into his mouth. Question. Answer the boy's question. "Daddy is going to be fine, I promise. I'm not lying to you in the slightest. We talked and he is going to be just fine."

Thomas nodded slowly and was quiet a long while. "Was…was Daddy beat up because of the bad thing he did?" He looked back over to Sherlock. The face was all that could really be seen, but it was severely bruised and ugly looking. It worried and scared him, but he hadn't said anything about it because he had been trying to be strong for Amy. It was hard but he even managed not to cry in front of his sister.

John blanched at that, stumbling over everything that tried to come out of his mouth. Shit. Did Thomas actually know? Or had he just heard that Sherlock had done _something_? "Bad thing? Thomas, what do you think Daddy did?" He crouched down to the boy's level, licking his lips for a moment. "Did Uncle Mycroft or Uncle Greg tell you something?"

Thomas furrowed his brows in confusion and slowly shook his head. "At home you said Daddy had done something bad but it wasn't your place to tell me. That it was something that Daddy had to tell me about. You told me I couldn't get mad at him for it. I don't know what he did but he is hurt really bad. I thought maybe someone got mad at him for the bad thing…" He trailed off with a shrug.

"This didn't happen because of the bad thing he did, I can tell you that," John stated confidently. That had nearly given him a heart attack, something he was probably old enough for now. "Daddy's a bit younger than me so he is going to be just fine in a few days." He ruffled Thomas's hair and stood up fully. "Do you want to continue this over a grilled cheese and apple juice?" He offered his hand with a wiggle of his fingers.

Thomas frowned in thought, his eyebrows still knitted together. "Oh okay. Then why did Daddy get beat up? Why didn't he fight back? Is Uncle Lestrade going to get the bad guy? Is Grandma okay? She worries about Daddy a lot you know." He nodded slowly at the offer of food. "Chips too, please?"

John took his son's hand and walked them out of the room and toward the café slowly. "Daddy was on his way back to his hotel and got a little lost. He tried to fight back but there were a lot of bad guys," he said as they entered the café. The smell of food mad his stomach lurch. How long had it been since he had eaten? "And Uncle Gregory will find the bad guys like he always does." He was afraid to bring up Nancy. Did she even know that Sherlock had been using? "Are you going to tell me how you are doing, Thomas? That's what I'm really here for." He gave the boy a sideways glance before ordering Thomas's food and getting himself a basket of chips as well. Once he got the food, he moved them toward a table in a quiet corner. "Tell me how you're doing," he said before dipping a chip in ketchup and popping it in his mouth.

"Daddy doesn't get lost! He knows every street in London." Thomas followed his Dad to the café. "Uncle Lestrade won't let Anderson work the case, will he? Daddy doesn't like him. Daddy says he is incompetent. That means dumb, right?" He sat down and began eating. He ate in silence for awhile. When he finally spoke again, he stared at the food. "I'm fine," he muttered with a shrug. He would worry about himself later, right now his family needed him.

"Daddy was texting me, Thomas, and wasn't looking where he was going," John said as he took another bite of food. Now he was just worried about his son, about making sure he was all right. "And Uncle Gregory already has people on the case who aren't Anderson." He had to laugh at that. Biologically not like Sherlock but so much like him in every way. "And yes, that means dumb," he added with a proud grin. "Now right we are away from the family. It is times like these where Daddy tells me what's wrong and how he's feeling. Sometimes he needs to do that, too. I am here for you to talk to."

"I'm fine," Thomas repeated. He sighed, and stopped eating. He wasn't hungry anymore. He stared at the half empty plate and slouched in his chair. Grandma said it was bad for his posture and he should sit up straight but he just didn't feel like doing that right now. "May I be excused, please?" He finally looked up at his Dad.

What did John do now? Did he say no and demand that Thomas talk to him? It was so painfully obvious that he wasn't fine and that something was definitely bothering him but the boy wouldn't talk. "I...I'm worried about you, Thomas." There. Avoiding the question and bringing up the problem. "I know something is wrong, I am your Dad."

Thomas sighed, his gaze dropping again. "Just worried about Daddy, you, Amy…about everything. It's stupid…" He trailed off with a sniffle and balled his hand into a fist to wipe away the tears before they fell. "I should save the rest of this for Amy," he muttered absently as he stared at the remaining food on his plate.

And there it was. "Thomas, you don't have to worry about all of us," John said as he reached across the table and grabbed the boy's hand. "I mean, you can, but not to the point where it's making you act like this. Sometimes you have got to take a deep breath and take some weight off of your shoulders." He squeezed Thomas' hand and smiled warmly. "And Amy can't eat that kind of food yet. I bought it for you. Eat, my little boy." He smiled warmly again. "Eat and know that I'm going to take care of everything and all you have to worry about is growing up." There was a pause before John stood up and, sod Thomas growing up, pulled the boy into a tight hug. "And it's okay to cry."

"I just…I just want everyone to be happy and perfect Dad. Ever since I started getting into fights at school, things have gone wrong. This is my fault. I ruined everything." Thomas returned the tight embrace, letting the tears fall now. "Daddy lets Amy eat grownup food when you aren't around, it is supposed to be a secret though. Says it would just make you worry because you worry a lot."

"Thomas, things were going wrong far before your fights," John whispered as he pulled away slight to look at Thomas's face. It was heartbreaking to see their little boy like this, thinking it was all his fault. "I promise that none of this is your fault. It never will be." He placed a kiss on his son's forehead while his gaze traveled to the food. So Sherlock had been feeding Amy? Wonderful. He had had her on toddler-specific foods for a reason. Maybe he would have to talk with his husband. "Let's not feed Amy grown-up food while I am around, yeah? She has food that she eats."

"Don't be mad at Daddy. She wasn't eating one day. Said she didn't have to cause Papa wouldn't. So he made some mac and cheese to eat with Amy. She still wouldn't eat. So, he shared his food. Far as I know, its only been the mac and cheese and hot dogs. He cuts them up real small and he will eat with her. Daddy doesn't eat a lot...so...I just never told you before." Thomas looked up at his Dad. "Please don't be mad at him...I hate when you two fight..."

Oh. Sherlock had done that for Amy? John smiled a bit and shook his head. "We aren't going to fight, Thomas. That...actually just made me very happy," he whispered with a grin pulling at his lips. "Why don't you finish eating and I will get Amy some food of her own?" He stood and returned to the counter, getting quite the odd look for his order. He moved back to the table and sat down slowly cutting the hotdog he ordered into small pieces. "I am proud of you, Thomas." He looked up at his son warmly. "You make me so proud."

Thomas smiled and nodded. That had gone better than he thought it would. It made him happy knowing his parents wouldn't get into a fight because of him. He began eating again as he watched his Dad curiously. "Is that for Amy or Daddy?" He grinned after the question and then took a drink of his apple juice.

John looked up at Thomas with a small laugh. "Both, probably," he replied with a shrug. There was no way he was going to force Sherlock to eat, even if he had popped his jaw back into place. Amy was probably hungry though, he knew he would hear about it once she woke up. "Little joker, aren't you?" He added as he looked back down at his plate and continued his intent focus on the hotdog. Sherlock went through a lot to get their little girl to eat, didn't he?

Thomas grinned and finished off the food on his plate and downed the last of his juice. "When Daddy doesn't think anyone is looking, he pretends the fork is an aeroplane. Amy usually laughs and says he is silly but she will eat the food. I don't know why Daddy thinks he has to be so serious all the time."

Perhaps he should spend more time with Thomas and find out all the secrets Sherlock had been hiding from him when he was around Amy. John would talk to her in a higher pitched voice, pretend to eat the food...but hearing that Sherlock did things like that made his heart beat a little faster. Was it wrong to be aroused at the thought of his husband being such a wonderful and fantastic father? "Daddy is so serious all of the time because...because that is who he was when he first met. He was a very serious man, Thomas."

Thomas frowned at that but nodded slightly. "Daddy loves Amy, you know? He…he doesn't do stuff like that with me. Daddy has always treated me more like an equal and I like that, but sometimes I wish he would treat me like a kid…" He trailed off with a shrug. No. He wasn't going to cry again.

John set his fork and knife down slowly, eyebrows raised as he looked at Thomas. It hit him, then, that they treated their son as one of them and not like a kid at all. How did he approach that? He swallowed hard and stood up, moving slowly toward Thomas before picking him up. "You are always a little kid to me," he whispered as he placed a kiss on the boy's cheek. "My little boy. The boy who survived the island." He laughed and spun around several times, much to the delight of the kitchen staff and the few people in the area. "I will treat you like a kid, Thomas Curtis," he said with an eager laugh, holding Thomas close and gently tickling one of his sides.

"Dad!" Thomas was about to protest further but then they were both spinning and he couldn't help but laugh. "Put me down silly. People are staring," he giggled out. He wiggled out of John's grasp still laughing. "Not in public…" He said quietly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He looked around at the people and smiled shyly.

Well, it seemed Thomas certainly hadn't got Sherlock's streak of acting out in public. John grinned proudly as the small group of people around them just smiled at the two of them. They seemed to understand. A father and son moment, something people loved to see. Something that brightened people's days. "You liked it," he whispered with a chuckle. "And I love hearing you laugh," he added as he crouched down and stuck a hand out to gently tickle his son's side again.

Thomas giggled some more, twisting away a bit from the tickling fingers. "Dad!" He continued to giggle even more. "Amy will," more giggling, " be waking up soon." Another burst of giggles. "We should go feed her. Maybe Daddy will eat too." He was still giggling but he couldn't help but wonder why his Daddy didn't eat like most people do.

"What was that?" John asked with a laugh, looking at Thomas curiously. "I couldn't hear you through the giggles, mate!" He finally pulled his hand away, pulling the boy into a tight hug. "I'm going to try and treat you better, all right? You are still a kid...I will remember that." He closed his eyes for a moment and turned his head to place a quick kiss on the boy's cheek. "Come on then, let's go see if Amy and Daddy are hungry." He grabbed the food, Thomas's hand, and started walking out the door.

Thomas grinned and followed after his Dad eagerly.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock had woken up when he had felt little Sandi stir awake. He spoke briefly to a doctor, as a nurse came and checked up on him and even cleaned up the mess he had made on the floor earlier when vomiting. Apparently he would be in the hospital for another three, maybe four days. The doctor was worried about the damage to his kidneys the most. It would probably hurt to piss for awhile and to expect blood.

"Papa," Amy whispered softly against his chest, biting her bottom lip. "Papa, is you hurt really bad?" She looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, worried and scared. "I's don't want you to be hurt."

John entered the room quietly, he knew the body language of Sherlock being awake. He could hear Amy's little voice and didn't want to interrupt anything, instead moving to the side of the bed where they could be seen and holding up the food with a knowing smile.

Sherlock smiled weakly at little Sandi. "I'm hurt pretty bad right now Baby Girl, but I will be able to leave the hospital in a few days and I'll be all better." He leaned forward and kissed Amy on the forehead. He finally looked over to John, eyebrows raised slightly before a smirk played across his lips. He then leaned down to whisper in his daughter's ear, "Daddy brought you some hot dogs. Looks like our secret is out."

Thomas slipped in quietly and sat down in the chair by the bed.

Amy turned slightly and looked at her Daddy with a small smile. "Oh's." She blushed and looked over at Thomas with a giggle. "'Mas, you silly," she whispered as she climbed off the bed without a second thought and moved right into his lap. "Loves you, 'Mas," she whispered as she wrapped her arms the best she could. "Bests brodder ever," she added as she wiggled in his lap and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You never told me you liked aeroplanes," John whispered as he moved to place a gentle kiss on his husband's cheek. "Never told me you would eat so she would, either." There was a pause, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Would have shagged you a bit harder if I would've known," he whispered.

Thomas smiled and held Amy in his lap. "You are the best sister ever," he replied as he kissed the top of her head and then placed his hands over her ears so she couldn't hear what Dad was whispering to Daddy.

Sherlock smirked a bit and shrugged. "Didn't want to upset you. I know you have specific foods for her right now, but just because I don't eat doesn't mean she shouldn't. It was the only thing I found that worked. I take it, this means you aren't upset about it then?" That surprised him a bit but in a good way. He refused to comment on the aeroplane bit, no one was supposed to know about that except for little Sandi.

Amy grumbled something and tried to pull her head away. "'Mas," she whispered as she pushed her hands against his chest. "Can't hear. Stop, 'Mas."

John shook his head, biting his lip so he could control his smile. "Not at all. I am...proud. Very proud, actually." He set the food down and moved to slowly kiss his husband, not being able to help himself.

Thomas figured it was safe now and he dropped his hands to his side. He leaned over and grabbed the plate of food. "Here Amy, Daddy brought you some hot dogs."

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. "I love you." He reached up a hand to gently stroke John's cheek. It didn't stay there too long, too much strain, and he let his hand drop back to his side.

Amy grinned, eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. "'Mas, will you does the aeroplane thing? Please?" Her voice was low, like she was trying to keep a secret. Was Papa the only one who could do that? There was a moment of deep thought written on her face before she looked up at Thomas and smiled. "I wants to be just like you, 'Mas. Can I do dat?"

John moved to gently grab Sherlock's hand, giving it a small squeeze. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly. The question held so much meaning, so much worry. The withdrawals would start soon, they both knew that. How much longer could the children stay? "When should I take them back?" God, that was so hard to ask.

Thomas smiled and picked the fork up. "Here comes the aeroplane. Vroooooom…." He 'flew' the fork around in dramatic zigzags before putting the fork at Amy's lips. "Of course you can, if you want to. But you want to know a secret?" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "you are already perfect the way you are."

Sherlock glanced at the children for a moment, watching them with a smile before he returned his attention to John. "Still in pain. You will probably want to take them in the evening. I should be okay until then."

Amy giggled and opened her mouth, taking the small piece of hotdog with a satisfied hum. She swallowed loudly and looked up at her brother. She was perfect? That caused a blush to spread rapidly across her cheeks. "You thinks so? You perfect, too, 'Mas. You's the most perfect person ever." She gently grabbed the fork, managed to get a piece of hotdog on the end, and moved to hold it to her lips proudly.

"Will you be all right by yourself?" John asked brokenly. Sure, they had been fighting and he was still bugged by the fact that Sherlock had used drugs, but this was his husband. He couldn't just leave him like this. "I...I could have Mrs. Hudson watch them and come back if you need me to. I don't want to leave you."

Thomas smiled again. "Hey, look at you. Eating all on your own." He looked to his parents briefly and wanted them to see but they seemed busy talking about grownup things so he didn't bother them. He looked back down to Amy with a proud smile.

Sherlock closed his eyes in thought a moment. "I will be terrible to be around. You know that, right?" He opened his eyes to look up at John again. "You can stay if you want, but I'll understand if you don't want to." He wanted to be selfish and beg his husband to stay but he didn't want John to have to watch him suffer. He was also worried he may say things that could hurt his husband. Maybe John shouldn't stay after all.

"Like aeroplane better," Amy muttered as she put the fork against her mouth again, chewing the new bite and swallowing with a smile. "But I does want to be like you, 'Mas. Big and strong and really, _really_ smarts." She put the fork down with a small twitch of her mouth, looking up at him. "And you's looks like Papa. I wants to look like Papa, too."

"Remember Afghanistan?" John whispered with a soft smile, squeezing his husband's hand again. "That was bad, I remember that. You snapped at me, yelled at me...but you are my husband and I want to be here for you. If you don't want me here then I will stay with the kids. It is entirely your choice, Sherlock." He lifted his free hand to run through his husband's hair.

Thomas frowned a bit. Did he look like Daddy? He had never really thought about it. He didn't think so. Daddy was so tall and had dark curly hair. His hair was basically a brown mop head, he figured. He wasn't tall at all. "When you are older and Papa and Daddy agree maybe you can dye and curl your hair to look like Papa's." Was he going to get in trouble for suggesting that? His parents were busy whispering about things he didn't quite understand, so they probably weren't even paying attention to them.

Sherlock commiserated in silence awhile. "Please. Stay?" So, he was going to be selfish after all. The thought of doing it alone, of being alone was scary. God, at one time he hadn't been afraid of anything. He was so dependent on John now. "Love," brief hesitation, "…do you think I rely on you too much?"

Amy shifted on Thomas's lap and pressed her face against his chest with a 'hmph.' There was a moment where she was silent, her hands wrapped tightly in his shirt, before she spoke. "Tired, 'Mas," she whispered with a yawn. "Sleep." Her eyes slipped shut and she slowly fell asleep.

John studied his husband for a long moment, swallowing hard before he spoke. "No. That's what a relationship for, isn't it? To rely on each other? I rely on you so much, Sherlock...more than I have any other person. Sometimes it scares me and sometimes...I realize that you are my husband and that's what you're here for." That sounded wonderful.

Thomas put the plate down and held onto Amy. He hadn't slept much lately and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep either.

Sherlock nodded a bit at John's words. "I guess you are right. I have never needed anyone before, but I need you. God, do I need you so much. I'm sorry for being a selfish idiot." If it was possible he would go back in time and stop himself from taking the cocaine. His family was suffering so much right now and it was his fault. How could he have done this to them? "Never again," he whispered, but it was more of a vow to himself than to his husband.

"It is fine. That is what I am here for, all right? I will stay with you tonight. I'll take care of you and lay in bed with you...do whatever you need," John whispered as he bent at the waist and pressed his forehead to his husband's. Strong. He was going to stay strong for Sherlock and make sure that the man got everything he needed. "I love you," he said softly as he gave Sherlock a kiss.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I love you too." Would John be doing this if his husband didn't feel sorry for him being in the hospital after getting assaulted? He almost asked but thought better of it. He really didn't want to know the answer to that. "Lay with, while the children sleep? When they wake up, it will probably be about time for them to go."

"I... um..." John cleared his throat and looked down at the front of his jeans. "Maybe later? All your relationship talk...is certainly making me a bit excited." He blushed, grinning a bit before looking around the small room. No personal bathroom this time around. "Unless you are all right with my hard on pressing against your stomach for a bit." He laughed and took a step closer to the bed.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "I never mind that but…" He trailed off. John probably wasn't ready to do that yet. Should he offer to take care of his husband? God, no. The children were right there. Even he wasn't that bad. He sighed at his thoughts. He forced another smirk. "I can behave, if you can." There, that should be okay.

John winced and took a deep breath. Probably shouldn't have gone there. He was in no way ready to go near his husband in such a sexual manner. "I...yeah," he muttered as he climbed into the bed, pulling Sherlock against him weakly. Had he just ruined the entire moment? Jesus, he was horrible. "Yeah. I'm good." He placed a soft kiss in Sherlock's hair and sighed.

The smirk faded into a frown as Sherlock watched John. Of course he had ruined everything, hadn't he? Should he pull away? It didn't seem like his husband really wanted to be here anymore. Would they ever shag again? He sure did have a knack for ruining sex for John, didn't he? His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. His doctor walked in.

"Mister Holmes, I would like a word with you in private if that's okay."

Sherlock shook his head. "Whatever you have to say, can be said in front of my husband."

"Fine, but perhaps you want the children to leave? We got results on your toxicology report." The doctor raised his eyebrows.

John tensed at that, biting his bottom lip. Oh...no. That didn't sound good at all. He stood up from the bed and woke the kids up, walking them outside to the small waiting room before coming back in. Why was he shaking? Damn it. Calm down. Freaking out now wasn't going to help Sherlock in the long run. "What's going on? Why a toxicology report?" He asked softly.

That made Sherlock cringe. Shit. Why had they done a tox screen? He had been so lost in thought, he hadn't even noticed that John had left and come back in until he heard his husband's questions.

The doctor looked at John. "Your husband was found beaten and mugged in a less than favorable side of town. The Constable who found him thought it was a drug deal gone bad and asked me to run a test for drugs. It came back positive for cocaine, trace amounts, mind you but it is still against the law. I have already alerted the authorities and they will be arresting your husband within the hour. He will be taken to a prison hospital and held there until he is well enough for court. I am sorry." The doctor shrugged and then left the room.

What? Jesus, John's legs...they were giving out. He stumbled toward the bed, catching himself on the edge as he blinked quickly to try and process everything. Damn it. _Damn it_. Did he get mad? Yell and tell Sherlock this would always happen? Or did he stay here and support his husband, keep him company as long as possible? God, what was he going to tell Thomas? "No," he whispered as he tried to stand up straight, swaying on his feet. "No."

Sherlock sat there, numb for a moment. John…John needed him. This really was all of his fault. His husband couldn't say it wasn't. He forced himself out of bed, his body not really ready to support him yet. He didn't care. He ignored the waves of pain rippling through his body and he wrapped his arms around John. Would his husband push him away? Yell at him for being an idiot? If John did, he would deserve it but right now he did his best to hold onto his husband, despite the torment he was putting his body through.

John couldn't help himself and nearly collapsed against his husband. They couldn't take Sherlock. How could they do that? He had stopped using...for a few days. Damn it. What could he do? Would the kids find out? What about Nancy? "I am going to get you out," he said weakly. "I promise. I'm going to do everything I can to get you out. You aren't staying there. You can't. We have got a f-family and I promise...promise." He let a sob shake his entire body.

Christ, it felt like his body was going to give out any minute. Sherlock continued to suffer through the pain and stubbornly held onto John. He kissed the top of his husband's head. "It will be okay Love. I will be fine. Maybe Mycroft can help, like he helped you when you went to jail in Spain. He won't like it but, he will probably help anyway." He stroked a hand through John's hair soothingly. Fuck. He was going to regret this so bad later, but he would endure any amount of pain if it meant helping his husband even a little.

"No," John said through several hiccups, through the sobs that were shaking his body. Jesus, when had be become so weak? It felt so odd to be crying like this. He hadn't cried this hard since...since returned from Afghanistan. Was his entire world destined to just fall apart? "I'll talk to h-him," he whispered with a sniff, pulling away to look at his husband. How was he not scared? "I'll t-talk to h-him."

Sherlock hadn't realized that by supporting John he had been keeping himself up as well. When his husband pulled away, he felt his knees give way. He collapsed to the floor with a grunt of pain. There was insurmountable amount of agony his body was going through and he saw black spots all around him before he literally passed out from the pain. His mind just couldn't cope with all the aches coursing through his entire being.

"Shit." John moved and instantly picked Sherlock up, sliding him on to the bed with a gasp, struggling to breathe through his tears and the sudden stuffiness of his nose. "Damn it, Sherlock," he muttered, growling a bit. This was...this was _all_ Sherlock's fault. Everything. Was he supposed to be pissed? Upset and yelling? Or should he be supportive? Weak? Jesus, his emotions were all over the place and he wanted to scream. He turned and ran a hand through his hair before shouting, every muscle in his body tense.

Sherlock was lost to unconsciousness. The door opened as the police entered with the doctor. The doctor had a wheel chair to cart Sherlock away in. He frowned as he looked at his patient, but with help from the officers they lifted the still form of Sherlock into the chair. The cuffed Sherlock to the wheelchair, just in case before wheeling the unconscious man out the room.

The feeling to strangle the doctor, to rescue Sherlock, was driving John mad. What else was he supposed to do? Crying wouldn't get him anywhere, especially with the kids outside. Now he was lost, scared...didn't know what to do anymore. And it was all Sherlock's fault. He bit his bottom lip and slid to sit on the bed, face blank before he pulled his phone from his pocket. The only person who he could call probably didn't want to know what was going on...but he didn't have a choice. He hit 'call' and took a deep breath. "Nancy?"

Nancy answered the phone after a few rings. "John? Dear is everything all right?" She hadn't been told about the drug use but she knew about her youngest son had been beaten and hospitalized. Had Sherlock taken a turn for worse? She had planned on visiting once the family had gone, so as not to crowd him. Had she waited too long? Something terrible had happened. She could hear it in John's voice.

Of course she didn't know. God, he was the worst son-in-law ever, wasn't he? "Sh-Sherlock..." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Calm. No need to be so soft on the phone with Nancy. "Mum, he got arrested." That did it for him, he broke down and struggled to talk, to breathe. "H-He got screened a-and he had d-drugs in his system." He coughed slightly and tried to control himself. Jesus, he was so horrible. "A-And they took him."

Nancy was quiet a long moment. Keep it together. Stay calm. "I see. He is using again. Did Mycroft know? Typical of him to keep it from me…" She sighed. "They took him even though he was in the hospital? Can they do that? I will talk to Mycroft. I'm sure he can fix things." Her oldest son had cleaned up a lot after Sherlock. Mycroft would not be pleased, like usual, but she was certain she could get him to help.

"Y-Yes, Mum...he knows," John whispered hoarsely as he finally got himself calmed down. It wasn't going to do him any good to keep crying and acting up. "Sherlock had been using for about three months, apparently. L-Lestrade caught him earlier this week." Another deep breath. There. Doing better. He was talking and not breaking down. "And they can. I assume they took him straight to a hospital in the prison."

"All right. Do you want to bring the kids here? They always like coming here and maybe it will distract them for awhile. I will talk to Mycroft, all right? We will get this sorted, don't you worry Dear." She took to pacing, to relieve some of the stress she was feeling. Why had Sherlock started using again? Maybe John would know. "Do you know why he started again?"

"That sounds good," John said softly, finally getting his breathing under control. There. He could talk normally, could breathe. "I...he was having trouble balancing everything, he said. Family and cases and everything." He shrugged even though she couldn't see it. "Said he had been using about three months but not too often. It's...I am sorry. I shouldn't have been the one to tell you."

"Okay. I will see you and the kids soon then. I am going to talk to Mycroft. Try to stay positive for the children. Things will work out, they always do." Nancy hung up the phone and went to Siger's room. Mycroft should be finishing up putting down her grandson for a nap. She waited outside the room patiently, not wanting to disturb her son until Siger was asleep.

"Good boy," Mycroft whispered at their son as his green eyes finally closed, hand loosing it's death grip in Mycroft's dress shirt. He put the little boy down in the bed, kissed his forehead, and left the room. The moment he spotted his Mum and tensed, eyes slightly wide. Oh no. "Mum?"

Nancy had taken to pacing again but stopped when she heard her son. She motioned for him to follow, so their voices wouldn't wake Siger up. When they got to the sitting room, she sat down with a sigh. "Your brother was arrested at the hospital. They found drugs in his system. When were you going to tell me? Three months Mycroft! My baby boy! How could you let this happen! You will fix this now! You hear me! You fix this for Sherlock!"

Mycroft winced as he sat down. "I didn't know about it until earlier this week, Mum," he said softly. Why was he always fixing things? Always picking up after Sherlock? Why didn't his Mum ever try and do it herself? He looked up much like a young boy. "He never told me or John. He did a very good job of hiding it. I was hoping to...to not tell you. I don't know why he was arrested, all right? But...I'll fix it, all right? I will fix it."

"You better! You are the big brother! It is what you are supposed to do!" Nancy forced herself to calm down. She sighed. "I'm sorry. It isn't your fault Sherlock got into this mess. I had hoped…that with John…that…" She trailed off with another sigh. "John is bringing the children over. I…I'll be in my room." Lately she had been retreating to her room to deal with things. The three year anniversary of Siger dying was coming up in about a month. Like every year, she had grieved all over again. It wasn't getting any easier with time. And now Sherlock, her baby boy… She left the sitting room swiftly, weeping silently to herself.

Mycroft watched Nancy curiously before standing up and pulling his cell phone from his suit jacket, staying in the sitting room despite hearing the front door open.

"Amy, go find Grandma," John said softly, remnants of tears still across his face. His puffy red eyes gave nothing away. "Thomas, you can go if you would like. Don't make a mess, you two."

Amy grinned and quickly slid her shoes off, scampering up the stairs straight into Nancy's room and throwing the door open. "Gramma!" Then she froze, looking at Nancy curiously. John's gaze stuck in a little girl, knowing and strong.

"Amy we kno-" John froze, staring at his mother-in-law before picking his daughter up. "Honey, go find Thomas," he whispered as he placed a kiss on her forehead before setting her down and watching her run toward the stairs. He gently shut the door and moved forward, fearlessly embracing Nancy and holding her close to his chest.

Nancy was startled by the door being opened. She turned to see Amy, tears streaming down her cheeks. Oh dear. Crying in front of the little ones. That wouldn't do. She was about to say something when John came in and hugged her. She managed a small smile and returned the hug readily. "It is my fault, you know. That Sherlock got into drugs to begin with. If…if I had been a better mother he wouldn't have needed to use them in the first place. Now he is away from his family. My baby boy, my poor…poor Sherlock…"

John closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to stream down his cheeks. No. No crying. He needed to stay strong right now for the kids and for Nancy. "Don't blame yourself. It's the past," he whispered as his back rubbed gently up and down her back. "We all move on and sometimes people make mistakes. This is one of those times." He took a deep breath but didn't move to pull away at all. "It's me too. The stress of a family and...and a husband and the cases." He paused and swallowed hard. His next words need to be picked carefully. "I have been talking to the Army. They need a base Captain. I wouldn't be deployed, I would stay here and go to and from the flat to stay at the base during the day, work there and train. I haven't told Sherlock yet."

That made Nancy pull away from John immediately and she slapped her son-in-law across the face hard. "How dare you! Do you know what that would to Sherlock? Do you want him to go back to drugs _again?_ I thought you cared about my son! You are supposed to be _retired_! Get out! Just get out right now!" After Siger dying, she had lost her zeal of military men that once had appealed to her. She turned away from John, still crying.

John kept his head swept to the side, eyes closed as he tried to ignore the pain. Jesus, the woman was more powerful than she looked. Did he stay? It felt like she hadn't understood. He would still be in London, just training future troops. Maybe it was best to just get up and leave but...Nancy needed him. He had never comforted his Mum after his Dad had died. Now wasn't a bad time to start. He opened his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. "I am not going to leave. You need me and I need you," he whispered, resting a hand on his mother-in-law's back. "You are stuck with me, Mum," he whispered as he used a bit of caution in pulling her back to rest against him.

Nancy pulled away from John's hand and walked over to the window. "You stay out the military John Watson, or I will never forgive you. You understand me? I don't care, that you stay in London." She turned to face her son-in-law, tears still in her eyes. "I was able to forgive you for hurting my baby boy and almost killing him, but I will _not_ forgive you for that! Don't you dare do that to Sherlock! You will be on base but before you know it, they will send you right back into the field. You can't ignore direct orders John. Siger was supposed to retire…but then he took just _one_ more job and before you know it, every time was going to be 'the last time.' Just don't do it…" She trailed off, her eyes with a faraway look.

Siger. It had been three years almost, hadn't it? Three years since that man had stormed Bastion and killed himself to save John. His head dropped and he pursed his lips. How else was he supposed to support his family? Sherlock couldn't keep doing it all and he refused to take money from Nancy or Mycroft. Working the surgery would take him away from the house for too long. "Nancy...I'm not marketable anywhere else. I am a soldier. It is all I've ever known and I can't go get another job. Do you know what people say to me? They say 'Oh, you're a soldier' and then decide I'm too dangerous hire. How else can I help Sherlock and the kids?" He was standing now, desperately seeking some sort of guidance. "I don't know what else to do to save him."

"Well, going back to military life certainly won't 'save' my baby boy! You are doctor, for God's sake! I am sure you find a clinic or something to work at! If Sherlock wasn't so damned stubborn to do everything on his own, you could take some cases. That would ease the work load off him, wouldn't it?" Nancy sighed and leaned into John, burying her face in his shoulder.

No more arguing. John pulled her close and tried to relax as much as possible. "You and I both know I am not smart enough to figure out those cases," he whispered with a small chuckle. It was true. Sherlock was a genius and he certainly wasn't. There. No talk of the military, no talk of jobs or the future. That was too much now. "Do you work out on a regular basis, Mum? My cheek will be sore for weeks."

"John, you don't give yourself enough credit. Mycroft told me about the time you helped him with an issue of national security and you did an amazing job he said." Nancy managed a faint smile. "Comes with being the wife a military man as…imposing as Siger was. Can't let guys like that bully you around, you know. I wouldn't have any of it and he knew better too after a few domestics."

John smiled, blushing a bit and biting his bottom lip. "One time thing, I think," he whispered as his hand continued to rub up and down Nancy's back. "Being smart and such. I was born and raised to be a soldier. I don't know much else." He shrugged the best he could and closed his eyes. This was nice despite the stinging on his cheek. Being close with Nancy was something he had always liked about their relationship. "I love you, Mum. You are wonderful."

Nancy pulled away and smiled at John. "What about going into private practice? If you don't want to accept money from me or Mycroft, why not take a loan out at the bank? I would be more than happy to cosign for you. Then you can make your own hours and set up your own place! There is that floor at Sherlock's office that isn't even used! You could set up there! Oh! Or you can be a consulting doctor. Do house calls! No one does that anymore!" She wasn't crying anymore but she did sniffle. Talking to John always made her feel better and her mood was obviously brightening.

John laughed a bit. Nancy really did have quite a few ideas, didn't she? He bit his bottom lip with a shrug, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I mean...I could do house calls. I don't think Sherlock would enjoy me calling myself a consulting anything." He didn't think he could do it. Just talking about Sherlock made his heart leap. Jesus. "I don't know. Maybe. I have just...I've been working out and...Sherlock said he could tell." He blushed and cleared his throat. "But I don't want to disappoint you."

"Pish-posh! Sherlock would love it! You can have your office at his and leave when you need to make house calls to step out for a bit. You can call yourselves the Consulting Duo, you can put on your building at work! Oh! And I could come up with a slogan for you two! And make business cards! I just know I have stationary supplies around here somewhere! Oh this will be so much fun!" Nancy clapped her hands together excitedly, clearly happy at this prospect. Even though neither John nor Sherlock had said this was going to be happening.

John let a lop-sided smile tug at his lips, sheepish but happy. Nancy didn't get things like this all that often and, even if it was just entertaining the idea, he couldn't stop her. "Certainly cute, I will give you that," he muttered with a chuckle. Might as well, right? They both needed a little bit of a pick-up. If this was working for Nancy than he would let her wild idea continue. "I've got enough trouble dealing with the kids, Mum," he said with a grin. Would she really disown him if he decided to join the Army again? If he stayed in London and trained?

Nancy stopped and eyed John critically. "You don't like it, do you?" She frowned. "Even though I was a bit emotionally distraught earlier, I meant what I said. I won't forgive you if you go back to the army John. You won't be welcome in this house anymore. Sherlock can bring the kids by but I won't let you be here. I just…I won't…I can't…" She trailed off and turned away from her son-in-law once more.

"I actually think it's fantastic. We would be making more money," John smiled and took a step toward her. "I like to think I am good at being a doctor. If Sherlock would be willing to let me use the second floor then I happily will." He nodded and rested a hand on Nancy's shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently though her shirt. He couldn't go back to his original job then. He valued having Nancy in his life more than he ever thought he would. Not being able to are her would...would ruin him, he figured. "Is it because of- because of Siger?"

Nancy turned but her head was down, so she still wasn't looking at John. "Yes," she admitted with a whisper. "What…what if they send you away and something happened to you? Where would that leave my baby boy? Those poor children? It would break Sherlock's heart, I just know it. I don't want him to have to suffer…like I do…"

Completely understandable once he heard it. John licked his lips and pulled Nancy into another hug. "Then I will stay here. I want to be able to see you," he whispered. Sherlock had so much influence over all of them...he probably didn't even realize it. "No Army, even if I do look dashing in the uniform," he joked with a chuckle. There. Maybe that would lighten the mood. He probably shouldn't have brought up Siger.

Nancy nodded a bit, her head pressed into John's shoulder as he returned the hug.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock had finally woken up in the prison infirmary. He was disoriented and confused at first. He was handcuffed to a bed. Strange, he wasn't in pain. No. No. _No_. He was hooked up to a slow morphine drip. It was probably to keep him drugged and sedated, so he wouldn't cause a fuss and would be easier to maintain. Fucking idiots. Giving a drug addict a highly addictive drug like morphine. What were they thinking? Were they just trying to set him up to fail all over again? It was nice though. It made his head a bit fuzzy and the pain was gone. No. Don't like it. Fight it. He couldn't rip the I-V out that was dripping into his vein, due to being restrained. "Phone call," he slurred out in his slightly drug crazed mind. A nurse came and undid one hand and gave him a cordless phone. John's mobile. Christ, it was hard to think straight already. He managed to punch in the numbers, hoping fervently his husband would pick up.

John jumped slightly at the sound of his mobile going off, pulling it from his pocket and studying the number curiously. Who could it be? He clicked the answer button and glanced at Nancy. "Hello?"

Mycroft ended his call and opened the door to the bedroom, freezing for a moment. He had fixed the problem, Sherlock should be released sometime tomorrow and some homeless man would be arrested on the same charge to not upset the public.

"J-John? You…you have to get me out of here _now_ … They…they put me on…on a morphine drip…please…help me?" It was getting harder to focus the more the drug dripped into his system. Sherlock didn't care how needy, desperate and pathetic he sounded. Because the truth was, he _was_. How much longer would he last? Until he finally just submitted to the euphoric effects and wanted more? "Help me," he repeated, a little more frantically this time.

Shit. John looked up and met Mycroft's gaze frantically before he calmed his racing heart. "Sherlock. It is fine. It's going to be just fine. Mycroft did something. I think I will be there soon." He looked back at his brother-in-law who nodded. "Okay. I am on my way. Just stay calm." He ended the call as he darted out of Nancy's room and toward the front of the house.

"Mr. Holmes, we have been given orders to take you off of the pain medication." The guard smiled slightly and pulled the I-V slowly from his arm and rehandcuffed his hand to the bed.

Sherlock dropped the phone on the bed and his now glazed eyes struggled on the person talking to him. "…kay…" He was calm and relaxed now, the drugs having finally kicked in completely. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, his mind free of thought. Something that would have disturbed him if it hadn't' been for the drugs. Perfect. Serene. He had a strange smile on his face. No pain. Nothing. Just nothingness. It was nice. Drugs did make things better. More. He wanted more. Too much effort to ask, so he just continued to stare up at the tiled ceiling lost in bliss.

It took longer than John would have liked and, damn, how much power did Mycroft have? He was handed a badge, which he clipped on the front of his shirt, and led to the infirmary. That was where he saw Sherlock, clearly drugged. That was what cocaine must have been like for him, right? Wonderful. Like nothing could go wrong. He stepped slowly toward his husband, a nervous look flashing across his face. "Sherlock?" He bit his bottom lip and finally stood at the side of the bed.

Noise. A voice? It seemed familiar. His unfocused gaze shifted to his husband slowly. Sherlock gave a loopy smile. "Hi!" He squinted at John for a moment. "Hey…I know you!" He smiled again. "I feel _really_ good right now." He giggled a little. "No pain…'swonderful! No…no nothing! When do I get some more? Soon, yes?"

John felt his blood run cold, his jaw tensing as he tried not to yell. This wasn't Sherlock's fault, the prison staff didn't know...but Sherlock shouldn't be high. He was an addict, always would be. "You are not, Sherlock. You're not getting anymore drugs, all right?" He moved a hand to run it gently through his husband's hair, frowning as he did so. "No more drugs. You have a family, remember?"

His face fell a bit. "Oh…that's…too bad…" Sherlock trailed off with a frown. Family? He brought a hand up to rub at his face as he tried to focus, tried to remember. "Fam…ily…." He drew the word out slowly, as if doing so would help him remember. It was so hard to concentrate on all the fuzzy images in his head. "Do I?" The morphine was beginning to make him drowsy and he blinked rapidly. "Nap time," he muttered to no one in particular. His eyes slipped closed, his body still and breathing even.

Would John have to stay in the prison if he attacked a guard? He tensed his jaw again and pulled his hand away from his husband's hair. No need to be mad at him. This wasn't his fault. Except it was. If Sherlock hadn't done cocaine then none of this would have happened. They wouldn't be in some prison. "Fuck, Sherlock," he whispered as he glanced at the man asleep in the hospital bed. "Fuck."

After a couple hours, pain brought Sherlock back awake. Fuck. He didn't remember hurting this bad. He groaned, eyes slowly opening. Shit. Where was he? He was handcuffed to a bed. Right. Hospital infrimary. Since he was feeling the pain now, they must have gotten him off the morphine or maybe his drip ran out. He turned his head to look and he finally saw John. Oh. God, he must look pathetic to his husband. Why was John still married to him?

John kept his eyes locked intently on his husband, managing to keep his composure as Sherlock woke up. Pain. No drugs. The man must be going through Hell right now. "We took you off the morphine, in case you didn't remember," he said softly, no hint of anger in his voice. "How are you feeling?" That was it. No touching, no soothing words. Just curiosity.

Sherlock forced a smile. "I remember a bit, thank you for making them take it away." A brief pause. "I am okay I guess, considering." He looked away from John. Why was everything so uncomfortable now? "You don't have to stay, if you don't want to. The children should have at least one of the parents around." And it sure as hell couldn't be him. It was just one thing after another. Further proof he didn't deserve this family at all.

"The kids are with your Mum," John replied softly before wincing. Just the thought of Nancy made his cheek twinge. "We talked about the future. She threatened to disown me." He shrugged and moved a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Bu I am here until visiting hours are over. You should be out by tomorrow." He smiled a bit. There. Civil conversation, not getting upset.

Sherlock couldn't decide which was worse, the pain his body was in or the tension in the room. He barely paid attention to what John said. Would it be rude to just ask his husband to leave? Usually John was the first one he went to for comfort but his husband's demeanor had changed since the hospital. John was aloof and uncaring now. It was smothering and killing him on the inside. What had he done wrong since getting arrested to make John hate him now?

No answer. Wonderful. Should John keep talking, then? Make it all less awkward? "I was looking into jobs. I mean...the Army..." He paused and bit his bottom lip. "Not any deployment stuff. Just a base Captain. Your Mum slapped me." He smiled again, trying to relieve the tension he put there in the first place.

That made his whole body tense, resulting in further pain from the constricted muscles. Things just kept getting worse. Sherlock wanted to ask when John had decided that, but he supposed he had no right to that. He rights to nothing these days. He closed his eyes, feeling rather defeated and beaten down. God, did he want that morphine back right about now.

"I'm not going back," John corrected the moment he saw Sherlock tense. "I'm...not. Your Mum wants me to start a private practice. You know, doctor stuff." He grinned and lightly clapped his hands together. Tense. Awkward. Like they weren't even married. "I have mucked up, haven't I?"

Sherlock finally turned back around to look at John. "No, of course not. It is me. I am the one who has screwed up everything. I just...lately I don't know where I stand with you. Obviously and rightly so you were initially pissed, and then we talked at the cafe and things were getting better. Then the hospital things were almost back to normal, well as normal as things can get for us." He smirked faintly. "Now...I feel like I am back at square one with you." He sighed with a shrug, grimacing almost immediately after from the pain. There. Communication. When had that broken down between them? "Private practice? You would do well at that." It would mean they wouldn't be working together anymore. God, he was being selfish. Wanting to keep John all to himself when he had a family to think about. A family he so far had failed miserably at taking care of.

Oh. That. John dropped his head and cleared his throat. "In the hospital I was worried about you, I mean not that I am not worried about you now, 'cause I am..." He paused. Well, that had started off wonderfully. "I just don't know what to think, all right? I am upset you used cocaine and I'm more upset that you did it with our children in the house and hid it there. You know how curious Amy is, Sherlock. She could have found that and done God knows what." Was it still communication if he was upset? "But I love you. God, Sherlock, I love you so much and I can't stay mad at you."

Sherlock dropped his gaze. Right. He wanted to argue he had hid it too high for Amy ever to reach but that was a terrible excuse and would most certainly result in a fight he just didn't have the energy to have right now. Should he apologize again? Or would saying 'sorry' just seem like a trite and meaningless mantra at this point?

"I just...this is never where I thought we would be. I trusted you to never use drugs again. You could've come and talked to me, Sherlock. I am your husband. That's what in here for." John stopped to take a breath, relaxing back into his chair. "I just...I trusted you," he repeated weakly.

With every word John spoke, Sherlock felt worse about everything that had happened. He was never going to make a good husband or father. He should have never thought he was capable of having a family. It was a stupid dream he shouldn't have ever ventured into. Now John and his children were paying for his stupidity and mistakes. "I should have never tried to have a family. This is my fault, I knew I wasn't cut out for it... If you are smart, you will take the kids and leave me…" Fuck, that hurt to say. "I don't deserve any of you...I am just a selfish idiot..."

"Then I guess I am a massive idiot," John replied instantly, without hesitation. "I'm not leaving you. I never will and I am not letting you just give up like this. You are my husband." There was no way he could ever live his life without Sherlock. He relied on him, used him to steady his life. Who else could he even have a relationship with? It was always Sherlock. "Besides, they're _our_ kids and there is no way in hell I'm raising two of them on my own."

Sherlock nodded a bit and was quiet a thoughtful moment. "I get out tomorrow you said? Am I going back to a hospital? I don't want to go through withdrawals while at the flat. If I can't check myself into hospital, I will stay out a hotel. Thought about Mum's but I won't do that to Mycroft. Not with Siger there."

"I...I want to be there. I want to be with you," John whispered. He was just as needy, just as desperate as his husband. "I am sure Mum could watch Thomas and Amy for a few days but I'm not having you go through this alone. No way in Hell." He grinned and finally stood up. Sherlock had been through enough, hadn't he? Why was he denying his husband comfort? He moved to the side of the bed and took Sherlock's hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.

Sherlock smiled at that, nodding slowly. "Okay. Yes, please. I would like that. Thank you." He looked down at their hands. He wanted to kiss John's knuckles or nuzzle his cheek into his husband's hand. He had wanted contact the moment he saw John in the room and now that he had just this little bit, he was desperate for even more. He didn't want to push his luck, so he tried to be content with just holding hands.

John watched Sherlock eyes, his breath hitching slightly. He knew that look. Reading Sherlock was difficult but there were certain things even John couldn't miss. He lifted their hands and placed his knuckles against Sherlock's lips. There. Simple contact. Not shagging, nothing too extreme. Just something that he knew his husband would enjoy.

Sherlock relaxed for the first time since waking up in the prison infirmary. He smiled and gave John's hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you." Did his husband still know that? Believe that? Would John ever believe or trust anything he ever said again? He would have to work really hard for that, wouldn't he? Assuming it was even attainable to begin with.

Those words were still the most beautiful ones he could hear. "I love you, too," John replied with another squeeze to Sherlock's hand. And he did, how could he not? He had made a vow and he wasn't going to walk away from that at all. "I miss you, Sherlock. I can't wait to have you back home." He lifted their hands, inspecting them curiously. They fit so well together, he thought. A perfect match.

"I miss you too Love." Shit, was it too soon to say that? Sherlock had said it at the hospital but John wasn't being as comforting and loving as before. He honestly didn't know what was okay and what wasn't anymore. He would have just follow his husband's lead and go from there he supposed. It was like when they were first dating all over again. He was awkward, confused and didn't know what the hell was going on. Of course he had grown comfortable with John since then, but after everything it was obvious his husband was no longer at that level of comfort yet.

Was it ridiculous that John wanted to hear that again? Wanted to hear his pet name from Sherlock's mouth? "Call me your dear doctor," he stated softly. Damn, he had missed that more than he thought. "Please. Please, and then I want to kiss you. I want to slide my tongue over the roof of tour mouth so you will make that noise that I love." Oh. Where had that come from? He really couldn't control himself around Sherlock.

Sherlock couldn't help the large but genuine smile that played upon his lips. He looked up at John with nothing but love in his eyes. A look he seldom had, except maybe when the were making love. "I love you my dear doctor." His husband had already said he had wanted to kiss, so he went ahead and put their lips together but he let John control it.

Their first pet name, something that made him smile and blush, made his palms get sweaty. God, John loved Sherlock. He slowly moved his lips, pausing for a moment before his tongue slid into Sherlock's mouth and ran lightly across the roof. He had missed that, missed being close to his husband and sharing such small, intimate moments. Up until this entire incident he had completely taken these moments for granted.

Sherlock couldn't help the small moan the escaped his lips. God, he had missed kissing John.

"Hey! Oi! No fraternizin' with the prisoner! Catch ya doin' that 'gain, I'll kick ya outta here. Dun care 'o the fuck ya related to." A guard came into to glare at them, holding his night stick menacingly.

Sherlock pulled away the moment the guard started yelling at them. "Sorry Love. Didn't mean to get you in trouble," he muttered to his husband.

John jerked away from the kiss with a gasp, glaring at the prison guard for a moment before standing up straight and looking down at his husband. "It is fine," he whispered with a small smirk. "All fine. All very good and fine. But...but, no more, yeah? I don't thin-" Shut up, Watson. Don't ruin anything. "I missed that," he finally said.

Sherlock gave a slight nod of understanding. Right. Of course. He wished John would make up his mind. Ugh. He was getting irritable, the drug withdrawal would only get worse here on out. It wasn't surprising it was happening so fast, given his past experiences and the fact they had merely taken him off the morphine rather than weaning him. He closed his eyes in thought. "If I become unpleasant soon, I apologize."

Well, he had definitely ruined that moment. John squeezed his husband's hand and shrugged a bit. "Not worried about it. I imagine it will be about like Afghanistan, little worse," he whispered as he turned and pulled his chair closer to the bed. There wasn't any way for him to climb into the bed to comfort Sherlock, that might get him locked up. He could sit with his husband, though. Hold his hand. "I am not going to leave your side."

Sherlock gave a small smile and a tight squeeze of John's hand. "I love you." Try and stay positive. Think happy thoughts. Or at least something to distract him. He opened his eyes to look up at his husband. "You know, I never did tell you what happened to the knight and orphan." Things had just been too busy really. He hadn't forgotten about it because he still intended on writing that book. Maybe it would do well and it would give them a money buffer. "Would it be okay if I told you?" He had never asked before, but things were still weird between them.

"I would love to hear your story," John replied with a small smile, bringing Sherlock's knuckles to his mouth to give them a gentle kiss. "How could I not know how the story ends? I mean, no pressure or anything, dear." A smirk, a pet name. That was returning things to normal, something Sherlock needed more than his stupid little rules and emotions. Sherlock just needed him.

Okay, he could do this. Just don't think about the pain or the itching need for drugs. Focus. Sherlock closed his eyes again, still keeping a firm grip on John's hand. It was his only source of comfort right now. Something he sorely needed. "The orphan and knight got back home, but it wasn't the home they knew anymore. Something evil and terrible had happened, but it wasn't the sorcerer as they first thought. Well, not exactly anyway. An evil king had taken over and was taking over the lands. The king was making the sorcerer work for him. He had been enslaved and an enchanted arm band that made the sorcerer beholden to the king's every command. Of course the orphan and the knight couldn't let this go on. They foiled many plans of the king, as they gradually made their way to evil king's domain. However, the king was ready for them and he set up a trap for the heroes. They got captured and thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeon. Someday though, they plan to escape and finally restore peace to their kingdom."

John couldn't help the goofy smile on his face the entire time he listened. "I hope they get out. Horrid ending for a book like that," he whispered as he leaned forward and place a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. The grip on his hand hadn't gone unnoticed and he wanted to comfort his husband the best he could. "It is a very good story, though."

"Of course it doesn't end like that. It is a fairytale John. Happy endings and all that." Sherlock finally opened his eyes and smirked up at his husband. "I was actually thinking of writing it down and getting it published. It would be a little more in depth. Have a detailed accounts of the knight and orphan doing things. Anyway, I was thinking of giving it to them as joint present on Christmas. In book form, of course. That would be okay wouldn't it?" The smirk returned. "I already have your present done."

John's curiosity got the best of him, eyes narrowed slightly. "Already? You are making me look bad," he whispered with a small laugh. "I have an idea," a pause, "but I don't think a nice, slow shag really fits in a box. Or is very family friendly, for that matter." There was a moment where he nearly regretted what he had said but moved on with a shrug. No going back now, it was something he had planned for his husband if Thomas and Amy didn't stomp down the stairs at five in the morning like the previous year.

Sherlock gave a slight smirk and was unable to stop the slight squirming his body did. "I think you will like it. I hope so. It isn't anything special really. I have been planning on doing it since the honeymoon actually. Ever since you told me…" He cut himself off because then it would ruin the surprise. "Meant to do it sooner, so I don't even know if you will remember anymore…" He trailed off again with a slight shrug. Shit, he should stop moving so much.

Told Sherlock what? John's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes slightly. Now he was curious...and couldn't help but smile. Sherlock constantly said he wasn't romantic but the man really was. He could remember the smallest things, the most touching things, and managed to surprise John more often than not. "Now I am not going to be able to sleep until Christmas. The suspense is already killing me," he whispered with a smirk as he squeezed his husband's hand.

"I could give it to you on your birthday, if you want. It'll be here before Christmas." Should he tell John his original intention? "Wanted to give it to you on our anniversary, because it would have been more appropriate I think. I didn't get it done in time though. I'm sorry." Further proof he was failing at this whole married life thing. Sherlock sighed at his thoughts, eyes closing once more.

Their anniversary. John smiled at that and squeezed his husband's hand. "Christmas," he said with a nod. Why ruin his husband's plans? It sounded adorable. "I think I know what I am getting you so...Christmas. I can wait." He looked around to make sure none of the guards work looking and leaned forward in his chair to give Sherlock a soft, quick kiss. "God, we have to buy so many things for the kids. Our tree...Sherlock, our tree is going to look like a mess. They still believe in Saint Nick, we will have to wake up in the middle of the night to set their presents up. Remember last year? You remembered mid-shag?" He giggled and dropped his head.

Sherlock almost smiled, but then it turned into a frown. He did remember and to him it was just another reminder at his bad parenting skills. Or maybe it was the drug withdrawal screwing with him. His perception was gradually decreasing and focusing was becoming harder. He had struggled at first, to think he was a good husband and father. And there for a little bit he had been cocky and confident about them like everything else. Now though, after the Hell he put his family through made him realize he had only been fooling himself. He sighed again, trying to stay out of his head just for once. He shivered, even though he wasn't cold.

A shiver. John knew what that meant. He had seen enough drug withdrawals in Iraq and Afghanistan after major injuries. It was starting. That would explain why Sherlock hadn't laughed. It had been hilarious. They had both forgotten and laughed, not able to finish. "I'm right here," he whispered reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sherlock gave a slight nod of his head, the tight grip on John's hand returning. Distraction. He needed another one. "You mentioned going into private practice. Tell me about it?" He turned his head so he could look at his husband. There. Something he could look at to hopefully help comfort him. Except all he felt was betrayed and bitter. Working with him wasn't enough for John anymore. His husband was going to find a replacement job. How long until John replaced him? He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, the hand in husband's clinging desperately.

"It is actually your Mum's idea," John muttered, clearly still a lift put off by the idea himself. "I mean, I had just started talking about how we might need to get some more money. That's when I mentioned the Army and the whole base Captain thing. She hated it." His cheek was stinging again. That didn't matter, he was here to distract Sherlock. "She brought that up. I just don't think I am smart enough to work with you. You are brilliant and I'm...I am just me."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "If you really want to take another job would rather it be as doctor than a Captain." A pause. "I guess I am just being selfish...wanting you to work with me all the time. When we should both be doing what we can for the children...each other..." He sighed, unhappy with the thought of no longer working with John. Everything in his life had pretty much changed, so it was only a matter of time that this happened he supposed. Talking was helping the drug withdrawal though. At least he wasn't being some horrible child like last time. "C-can I tell you something?" His eyes once more focused on John.

John watched his husband with a bit of a frown on his face. "I don't want to stop working with you, Sherlock. I never did. Once I started, that first night when I saw the flat...I have never wanted to stop running around London with you. I am just trying to think about rent and food and school." He shrugged and dropped his head. Being part of a family, raising one...it was definitely changing them, wasn't it? "I feel like I was a bit of hindrance, to be honest. But if you want me to keep working with you, if you think that we can support the family on that, then I will." He looked up, cleared his throat, and felt his blood go cold for a moment. It probably wasn't horrible, the stutter at the beginning of the sentence didn't quell his nerves at all, though. "Yeah. Yes, of course you can tell me something."

"I never want you to stop working with me, Love. But...I have to stop being selfish and think of the family now and not just myself. It would be better if you had a job too. By no means am I putting blame on you, but I think trying to do it on my own was too hard for me. I would get stressed and frustrated easily sometimes, but I didn't want to disappoint the family. I know how stupid this sounds, but I used the cocaine to help me through it when I should have turned to you." He was rambling now wasn't he? Sherlock sighed, that wasn't what he had intended to talk about. Were the withdrawals leaving him without inhibition? God, he really wanted some drugs. No. No...he didn't...

"Well, that is why we decided on you only working on certain days, yeah?" John smiled a bit and lifted his free hand to rest gently on his husband's stomach. "That is why we are going to work on things and I will get a job. Maybe not as a doctor like your Mum wants but at the surgery. It pays really well, they have contacted me a few times." He nodded and tried to make it sound as positive as he could. "Anything else? Do you want to talk to me?" He dropped his voice and focused intently on Sherlock. He seemed to be doing a little better, like he was handling things but...he was good at hiding stuff, wasn't he? John had learned that.

"I could try and have normal hours. Monday through Friday, eight to six? That way I can be there to see Thomas off to school and still be home in time for dinner and story time for the kids? Then the weekends I stay home with the family. God, do you think I will be able to stick to that? You know how I get on cases, John. Especially if I am lucky enough to find a good, clever case." Sherlock sighed. "If you work surgery over having a private practice, we will probably see less of you at home. Fuck, I need to stop being selfish..." He sighed again. "Anyway, I was trying to tell you something before. I don't know, I am just sitting here thinking about my drug addiction and how good I am at hiding it. Remember in Spain, when you kissed my foot?" A pause. "The real reason I didn't want you to do that is because, back when I did heroin I would inject it between my toes so there wouldn't be visible track marks on my arms. I didn't want you to see the scars. It's stupid...I know..." He sighed again with a shrug, groaning a bit from the pain it caused.

Regular hours for cases would be hard to enforce. It was _Sherlock_ , for Christ's sake. John tried to stay positive, smiling a bit. "Maybe we will give you nights where you can work too, yeah? I mean, we both know you don't sleep much. Maybe after tucking the kids in you could bring the case to bed with you? I always read a bit, you could bring all the information? Work on it here?" It was a weak suggestion but it might help. Right now Sherlock just needed something to keep him as positive as possible. "Surgery would pay better and I have told them that I would only work certain days...some nights." He shrugged a bit. Probably not the best thing to say but it was true. His thoughts were sidetracked, though, when he heard what Sherlock said. Oh. His eyes drifted toward his husband's feet without a second thought. "You know I don't care, don't you? Your scars are just as much of you as mine are of me, yeah? I mean...they all tell a story that ended with you in my arms every night, didn't they?"

"That could work." It would have to. Otherwise he would just end up right here again. Wanting drugs and not wanting them at the same time. Only, Sherlock was certain he would lose his family for good if he went through another relapse. He would find a way to making it fucking work, he _had_ to. There was no other choice at this point.

The guard came back. "Vistin' hours 're over. Time ta feed the prisoner. Gotta uncuff one hand and can't nobody be in 'ere then."

No. John had promised to stay and now everything was getting worse. What if Sherlock requested more drugs? The prison might give them to him and he couldn't risk that. But he couldn't violate the law either. "Sherlock, I have got to go," he whispered as he held Sherlock's one hand in both of his. "Stay strong and I will be back tomorrow morning to pick you up, all right? You can do this. Just a few hours." He bit his bottom lip and kissed his husband's knuckles.

"I will be fine Love. I'll even eat something. Get something in my system that aren't drugs and maybe that will help." Sherlock doubted it would. He had absolutely no appetite right now and despite having just told John he would eat, he probably wouldn't.

The guard glowered. "I said out! You deaf mate? Get the fuck out, 'afore I arrest you too! Fuckin' gay bloody bastards," he muttered to himself.

Sherlock had been doing so well, remained surprisingly calm during the withdrawal but now he snapped. He snarled at the guard, eyes narrowing. " _Hey!_ Don't talk to my husband like that!" He struggled against the restraints, because he really wanted to punch this guy in the mouth.

"Oi! Got a mouth on ya dun ya boy?" The guard pulled out his night stick. "Dun make me use this on you!"

John tensed at the guard's insult, closing his eyes for a long moment. It wouldn't do any good to stand up and knock the poor man out, would it? But now Sherlock was struggling and he couldn't control himself. He really never could, could he? He stood up slowly, letting a hand rest gently on his husband's stomach for a moment. "What was that, mate? What did you just call me?" At this point he was happy he had been working out, his chest puffed out a little and his arms tensed. "Put that away, don't threaten my husband," he added with a growl.

As the tension in the room rose, the more worked up Sherlock got. He thrashed against his restraints even more, yelling mostly obscenities. He had lost all control at this point.

The guard narrowed his eyes, as a wicked smirk crossed his lips. He talked into the walkie-talkie attached to his uniform. "The patient in room one-oh-three gonna need immediate sedation, recommend a powerful drug for this one. And will need 'elp takin' out the prisoner's visitor. He ain't cooperatin' whatsoever." He released the button, the smirk returning. "Fuckin' drug addict. Ya want more drugs? Now ya gonna get 'em."

No. No _no_ _ **no**_. They couldn't just give drugs to Sherlock, could they? They had direct orders from Mycroft, from the bloody government. Now he was torn and didn't know what to do. Did he hit the guard or turn to try and comfort Sherlock before help arrived? He tensed once more before turning on his feet and putting a hand through his husband's hair. "Sherlock, hey, shh..." He put his other hand on Sherlock's cheek and tried to get him to hold still. "Shhh, honey, I am right here. Calm down." He was desperate now, praying that they wouldn't bring anymore drugs down.

Sherlock looked up at John with what would be best described as wild eyes. He was breathing heavily. His fingers clawed at the railings in desperation. It took a few moments, but somehow his husband's words finally reached him. John? As he fought for control, his clawing hands gradually stopped.

"Hmphm. What I thought." The guard spat on the floor in disgust. "Now, get outta 'ere!" He glared at John as three more guards came in.

"Sorry mate, ain't allowed to give this bloke more drugs." One of the other guards said.

Another guard. There, now John had a little more time. "You are fine. See? Just fine. You are doing so well." He grinned the best he could, forced and scared but something Sherlock needed. "I am going to be back soon. I promise. But you've got to stay calm, yeah? Think about Amy and Thomas. Think about them. They are going to be so happy to see you and then tomorrow night you'll be sleeping in your own bed and I'll take care of you." He lifted Sherlock's head to press it gently against his chest, forcing himself to calm down as well. "I promise. Please, just stay calm. Please."

Sherlock continued to calm down, his breathing returning to normal. "John…? …sorry…'msorry…" He looked over to the guards and then back to his husband. He hadn't wanted John to see him like that.

One of the new guards walked up to John slowly. "Sir, we are going to need you to leave now please. It is almost dinner time and that is when visiting hours are over."

"You are fine. I'm not upset, no need to apologize. You are just fine." John let his husband relax again and turned to the guard. A new one, polite and not some jerk who clearly hadn't even made it out of school. "Right. Sorry." He smiled tightly and glanced back at Sherlock. "Please make sure he doesn't get any drugs. He is...recovering and he is hard to handle because of withdrawals, yeah? That means he's getting a better So...no drugs." He nodded, took one last look at his husband, and let the guard escort him out of the prison.


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock had a rough time of it at the prison. He went from doing well to terrible, often. It was the longest night of his life. Finally, John came and got him. They were back at the flat now. His whole body was still aching, but at least his eye was no longer swollen shut and some of the other bruising was going away as well. He was in the bathroom, his palms resting on the sink for support. His body was shaking, the withdrawals were still brutal right now. He looked down at his arm. He could still feel the morphine. Just one more hit. It would be the last. He wouldn't use again. Just something to get him through the day. He looked up at his reflection, startled at the sight of himself. Christ he looked terrible.

There. Kids dropped off, some new groceries bought. John made it up the stairs of the flat, looking around the living room. Empty. It didn't surprise him that Sherlock was probably still asleep. He moved into the kitchen and put everything away before looking toward the bedroom. He could wash up and join his husband in bed, snuggle with the man and distract him. He smiled at the thought and, without thinking about the door being closed, entered the bathroom. What he saw stopped him cold. Sherlock, looking worse than he had ever been, and a syringe. He froze, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes and his mouth open slightly. No. "Are you...I...sorry..." He blinked rapidly and slammed the door shut, leaning back against it in shock.

Sherlock was startled as the door slammed. Oh God. This probably looked terrible to John. He hadn't put anything in the syringe. He was hoping something psychosomatic would work. Help him through this particularly rough patch. He spun around quickly, his body still shaking and managed to stay standing. He slumped against the door, finally unable to stay standing. "J-John…no…I…nothing in it…I swear…test me now if you don't believe me."

Checking it would probably be smart, drawing conclusions would only hurt them. John opened the door, looked down at his husband, then over the sink counter. It _was_ empty but even now he wasn't sure he entirely trusted Sherlock. Not with the powerful withdrawals. He grabbed both of Sherlock's wrists, turning his husband's arms, and inspected the inside of each elbow. No recent marks. His eyes darted down momentarily to his husband's feet. No blood, nothing. "Okay," he whispered softly, looking up at Sherlock. "W-Were you thinking about doing it?"

Sherlock nodded and he slumped into his husband heavily. "I…I thought if I…went through a simulation of taking a drug…I could trick my body into it for a bit. Like a placebo. God, I am some kind of idiot. I'm sorry I scared you." He buried his head into John's shoulder and began crying. Fuck. He was so pathetic and weak right now. With everything that was going on, he needed to be strong for his husband but instead he was falling apart.

Well, John couldn't be very upset because it did sound like a decent idea. He had just walked in at the wrong time. A bit of a misunderstanding. He wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock and turned his head to place a gentle kiss on his husband's temple. "You are fine. It's all right," he said softly. He just needed to be comforting. Getting upset wasn't going to help right now. "Why don't we go and lay down? I think you need some rest, you are tired."

Sherlock held onto John for awhile before finally standing and walking to their bedroom. He slumped into the bed immediately. "Stay and snuggle with me?" Shit, he sounded so desperate. Why did his husband continue to put up with him? It baffled him really. Most people would have abandoned ship long ago, but John always stuck with him no matter what. Was this what people meant by true love? Did he believe in such rubbish?

John followed Sherlock, sliding his shoes off before climbing into the bed. "Yeah, of course," he whispered as he pulled Sherlock against him and closed his eyes for a long moment. "Of course." His voice was lighter and he couldn't help it. Tired. But he couldn't sleep, he needed to stay awake for Sherlock. "You are doing very well. I am proud of you." He lowered his head and placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock snuggled deeper into John as soon as his husband was next to him. "I love you." He buried his head into John's head. He felt Hamish jump up on the bed and the cat curled by his head. He reached absently to pet the cat for a bit, before his dropped it back on his husband's stomach. The drug withdrawal was exhausting. "Going to sleep a bit," he muttered as his body finally relaxed and his eyes closed.

"Love you, too. Take a nap." John placed a kiss on his forehead again and moved his free hand to rub gently at his husband's back. "One time Pirate Sherlock got really, really sick," he whispered. Sherlock was a sleep but sod it, talking was talking. "So Pirate John stayed up with him, protected him, and did his best to make sure he was going to be all right. And one day Pirate Sherlock woke up and he felt wonderful, better than he ever had. And they went forward and conquered the world." Well...at least Sherlock was asleep and didn't have to hear the ending.

Sherlock woke up a few hours later. He woke up slowly, his body still in pain but it wasn't as bad as it had been at the hospital or the prison. Had John stayed up this entire time? He tilted his head up to kiss his husband on the cheek. Hopefully that would be okay. He was still fuzzy on what was allowed and what wasn't.

John smiled at the kiss and dropped his head, pressing a kiss into Sherlock's hair. "While you slept you kept pulling me closer to you," he whispered. It had been endearing. Every half an hour or so Sherlock would tense, pull him closer, and mumble something. It made him smile. "I really liked it. I like being close to you." He admitted with a grin. And now...he needed to comfort his husband. Part of him was slightly against it but his own selfish, stupid thoughts could be ignored for a bit. He used a hand to gently tilt Sherlock's head up and gently met his lips.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. He broke it reluctantly. "I didn't end up eating at the prison. I tried but…" He shrugged. "I should eat sometime today. It has been, three days now I think." Maybe it had only been two days. It was hard to keep track with the drug withdrawal and the in and out of consciousness at the hospital.

Why did Sherlock end the kiss? John slowly opened his eyes. Was Sherlock trying to say he wanted food? He bit his bottom lip and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. "Right, yeah...do you want me to go and get you some food?" He looked back at his husband curiously. His mind was still racing with the thoughts of kissing, something he had missed more than he cared to admit.

"I can get it…" Sherlock trailed off and remained quiet a moment. "I don't…want to start something we won't finish," he admitted quietly. He sighed and sat up, certain he just ruined the mood. He got out of the bed and then walked to the kitchen, Hamish trailing right behind him. He wasn't hungry anymore and he slumped down into a chair at the table.

John rolled on to his stomach with a groan. Wonderful. Being selfish had just mucked things up, hadn't it? He moved slowly off the bed and walked into the kitchen, looking at his husband. Maybe it was time to have that conversation. "I hadn't planned on starting anything," he muttered as he grabbed a loaf of bread, popping two of the slices in the toaster. "Sherlock, I love you so much it hurts but...I am not trying to start anything with you right now. I don't know if anything you used was very clean, I don't know if you have anything...I don't want to sleep with you right now." It was harsh but it was the truth. He kept his eyes locked intently on the toaster.

"I know." Sherlock shrugged. "Why I broke the kiss. I didn't want to get all worked up." He paused. "I think I will just sleep on the couch for awhile." He closed his eyes with a sigh. Was it the withdrawals that was making him so irritable? Probably. He couldn't stop himself from trying to provoke some kind of fight.

"You know that isn't what I mean," John said softly as the toast popped up. He prepared it slowly, putting butter on both before turning and setting the plate in front of Sherlock. "I want to sleep in the same bed as you. That is just me being selfish...but I don't want to shag you." He sat down at the table across from Sherlock. "And I am not going to fight with you, I'm not an idiot. Eat." He said softly as he reached across the table.

Now he was just being a stubborn idiot. "It is fine John. I will sleep on the couch." Sherlock stared at the toast in front of him. There was a part of him that wanted to pick the plate up, throw it, and watch it shatter as it hit the wall. Instead he picked up a piece and shoved it into his mouth, chewing ungracefully. He was pissed off and not really sure why but damn it, he was going to pout about it anyway.

Being patient and not fighting with his husband was tough but John would have to do it. He closed his eyes for a long moment and cleared his throat. "Then I guess I will just sleep on the couch, too. We have done it before," he stated as calmly as he could. God, he just wanted to yell and shake his husband, say this was all his fault in the first place. That would be immature, though. That wasn't what they needed right now.

"John, you don't seem to be understanding. Or you do and you are being stupid about it. Either way, I will spell it out for you. I don't want to sleep in the same space as you." Sherlock got up from the table, pushing the chair away roughly and causing it to fall over. It startled Hamish. The cat ran out of the room with a growling hiss. He stomped into the living room, sank into his chair, picked up his violin and began running the bow over the strings harshly. It was by no means a pleasant sound.

Fantastic. John winced at the sound coming from the living room, standing up slowly and moving to pick Sherlock's chair up. If Sherlock was going to be childish, then so was he. He moved into the living room, glanced at his husband, and flopped on to the couch. "It's _your_ bed so why don't you sleep there? I'll stay on the couch," he muttered before turning his back to his husband with a small grunt.

Sherlock stopped playing the violin with a screech. "Don't be ridiculous John. I barely sleep. I probably won't again for a few days anyway. If you want to sleep on the couch, fine! Sleep there for all I care, but don't complain when I am keeping you awake by playing the violin at odd hours." He needed to get out of the flat. "I'm going to the office to do an experiment. Since I am sure you don't trust me, you'll follow me and make sure I'm a good boy. Just try to stay out of the way, would you?" He placed his instrument down with care. He was still in yesterday's clothes and he had slept in. Just because he felt like shit didn't mean he should go out looking like something that goes in the trash. "I'm going to shower first." God, he wanted to ask John to go with him. However, his husband had made it very clear nothing of that sort was happening for awhile so he left without another word.

God, why were they fighting? Most of John wished it was simply because of Sherlock's withdrawal, that this wouldn't be normal. Getting upset wasn't solving anything at all but he couldn't help it. "Why don't you go on your own, you selfish bastard!" John shouted as he glared at Sherlock before turning his back to the man again. He couldn't handle this, couldn't handle everything that was going on. It was too much.

Sherlock had heard what John yelled and it had hurt. He slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. He had wanted to start a fight, hadn't he? He sighed and slid down the door. He had lost motivation to do anything, to leave the flat and do an experiment or even take a shower. He brought his knees up to his chest, placed his forehead against them and let himself cry. He didn't really want to fight with his husband. He just didn't know how else to cope with everything. John wanted limitations on their contact and fuck, he just couldn't. He wanted his husband completely and maybe that was selfish. He didn't want to just snuggle and have a kiss here and there. It was why he had initially suggested sleeping on the couch. So he wouldn't try anything and make his husband mad or uncomfortable. Why hadn't just tried to explain that to John instead of starting this stupid fight?

Slammed door. Crying. Jesus, they were falling apart. This wasn't supposed to happen. They had been married for almost three years now, had worked so hard on communication, and now everything they had built up was tumbling down and crashing at their feet. John shifted on the couch and sat up, burying his head in his hands with a sigh. Suck it up. Sherlock was more important than his stupid feelings. He stood up and moved to the bathroom, resting his forehead against the door. "I'm sorry," he whispered loud enough for his husband to hear on the other side. "Sherlock, can I come in?"

Sherlock stood slowly and opened the door. He walked over to the loo, put the seat cover down and sat on it. He looked up at John, his eyes already red but no more tears were falling. "When I said I would sleep on the couch...it was because I want more than just snogging and snuggling. I realize you aren't ready for that. I don't want to make you feel like you have to. I just...when you are ready I will come back. And maybe that's selfish of me, but _just_ being near you is enough to drive me crazy." He tried to give a small smile but it faltered as he dropped his head with a sigh.

John lowered his head and cleared his throat. So it wasn't Sherlock being stubborn it was Sherlock...limiting himself and respecting John's boundaries. Was it stupid that he was being selfish, too? All he could think about was wanting to fall asleep next to Sherlock, feeling him breathing and curl into his warmth. "I want you to sleep in the same bed as me because...because during cases I get so lonely and I hate sleeping by myself. I sleep with your pillow because I hope it still smells like you." He dropped his head. That was just as selfish as Sherlock, wasn't it? "We are both a being selfish aren't we?" He laughed softly before moving closer to his husband, reaching a hand out to run gently through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock closed his eyes from the contact. Just that one touch and he already wanted more. To bring John's hand down to his lips and kiss and suck on his husband's fingers. Then some snogging and then laying down on the bathroom floor and make love to John. He glanced up at his husband desperately. "Please..." The one word was a broken whisper. "I can't...please this is hard on me already...don't make it worse? I know it is hard on you too..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping. Just one touch and he felt powerless and he knew he would no longer be able to turn John down after this. He would just have to deal with the restrictions and hate every minute of it.

That voice...John took a deep breath and looked around the bathroom for a moment. Sod his boundaries for one time, it was clear that Sherlock needed contact that was more than just a touch. He needed John. He lifted Sherlock's head up as he bent his knees, gently meeting his husband's lips. Just once. It would make Sherlock feel better, it would help him out. Wasn't that what Sherlock really needed? Something to remind him of the normal life he was trying to get back to? "Make love to me," he whispered, his gaze locked intently on Sherlock's. "Right now, here in the bathroom. Make love to me," he said before meeting his husband's lips again.

Did this mean things were back to normal already? Was John just offering to try and make him feel better? Would all bets be off after this? Was this going to end up being something they would regret later? Fuck it. Sherlock just didn't care anymore and his husband had said it was okay. He returned the kiss, it was needy and sloppy. He slid off the loo, kneeling in front of John and leaned into his husband so he could be on top of John.

There. Already looking like a brilliant idea already. John moved slowly down to the floor, spreading his legs for Sherlock to settle between them. God, he was already hard, it was obvious through his jeans but he couldn't help it. This was Sherlock, the only person he had every truly loved. How could he say no? How could he not touch the man? He pulled Sherlock with him, continuing the sloppy kiss, with a small moan. One time to distract Sherlock. Just once. "Love you," he said against his husband's lips.

Sherlock straddled John easily and leaned down further to continue the kiss, and breathe through his nose. He pressed his hips into his husband eagerly, moaning when he felt his erection pressing into John's. "Love you too," he murmured, still refusing to break the kiss. It really hadn't been that long since they kissed but in his head it felt like life time ago. He wanted this to last as long as possible. It was just easier to fool himself into believing things were normal again. At least he would feel better for awhile, but he would probably end up regretting this later.

John arched his back with a soft moan, his hands moving between them urgently. Did Sherlock just press against him like that and expect to keep his clothes on. "Now," he whispered as he slowly pulled away from the kiss. "Need you now, Jesus." He craned his neck to glance between them, biting his bottom lip as he lifted his hips slowly and rolled them against his husband. How had he thought he could not shag his husband?

Sherlock nodded and looked around the bathroom. "Need something..." He stood shakily. No. Now was not the time for his withdrawals to kick in. He stumbled to his knees, with a slight shiver. Shit. He stood up, still shaky on his feet. He forced his way over to the medicine cabinet where they kept a bottle of lubricant just in case. He reached the sink, and had to use it for support as his knees buckled.

John watched his husband as he took several deep breaths, frowning as he sat up. Too weak. Sherlock was going through withdrawals and was shaky. There was no way he would be able to shag. Too much energy and focus. "Sherlock," he whispered as he stood up, moving to stand behind his husband for support. "Love, shh." He closed his eyes and placed a kiss on the back of Sherlock's neck. "Why don't we go lay down? You need some rest."

"I'm sorry..." Sherlock muttered and slumped into John for a bit. He stood slowly, still using his husband for support. He managed to make it back to the bedroom and laid down on the bed. "Sorry," he repeated. He wanted John still but there was no way he would be able to do anything right now. He sighed at his thoughts, curling into his husband as soon as John was on the bed with him.

John held Sherlock protectively, closing his eyes so the pain of the entire situation couldn't be seen. "I love you. You are fine. It is going to be fine." He placed a gentle kiss on his husband's temple and moved a hand down to scratch gently at Sherlock's back. Comfort. Just comfort. That was something he could handle. "I love you so much."

Sherlock pressed his nose into John's neck. "Love you." He didn't know what else to say or do now. He just let himself relax into his husband. He wasn't tired really, so sleep wasn't an option. He was still hungry, but that would mean getting up from the bed and leaving the comfort of his husband. He would certainly forgo food in favor of being in John's arms.

John slowly opened his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. The man in his arms was so strong, the strongest man he had ever met...and now he was weak, reduced to nothing. Maybe he should talk? "I look up to you," he whispered. "I mean, you are strong. You're _so_ strong. And I envy you for it. I want to be just as strong as you. I want to stand up and say that I fought to be where I am and right now I can't but you...God, Sherlock, you deserve everything that is given to you. _Everything_." He smiled and moved a hand to rest on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock gave a small smirk to his husband. "You want to be like me because I am perfect and amazing." He tilted his head up to give a quick kiss on John's cheek. There. Some form of normalcy. Something he was in desperate need of right now. He dropped his head back onto his husband's shoulder, nuzzling his nose into John's neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness with his husband.

Just the kiss made John grin, made his stomach flutter like some sort of teenager. "That's it. So perfect," he said with a soft smile. And it was true. Sherlock was perfect and his husband. He was so proud of that and wanted to shout it from the rooftops. "And I am proud of you. I always will be. And I will _always_ be your husband."

Sherlock slid his hand up John's shirt, his fingers running along the stomach lightly. The other hand moved to his husband's hair to run through it as well. He needed the contact. He wanted to reassure himself that it was real. God, John's neck was so close to his mouth. He just wanted to lick, suck and bite it. The withdrawals seemed to have passed, probably because he was so relaxed and at ease snuggled into his husband. Shit. His erection was coming back.

"Well, somebody...or something, is quite happy to see me," John whispered with a smile, biting his bottom lip as he looked down between them. Definitely an erection. Did he act on it? Pick up the same bravery he had managed to find in the bathroom earlier? Or just let Sherlock relax? It was tough, he didn't know, but the touch on his stomach made his muscles tense and the hand in his hair was soothing. "Can I shag you?" He asked softly into his husband's hair.

Of course John would notice. However, admittedly Sherlock hadn't tried to hide the erection from his husband. John wanted to shag him? That was something he would never turn down, but was it something his husband really wanted to do? Last time, in the bathroom, he was certain John had agreed just because they had both been desperate. This time…felt different. He lifted his head to look up at his husband. "If you want to. Are you sure you are ready?" He didn't want John to feel like he had to do this just to make him feel better.

The question hurt a bit but John had nobody to blame but himself for that. He had set these restrictions in anger and now...he missed Sherlock. Missed more than little touches and soft kisses. He missed being with his husband in the most intimate way possible. "Yeah," he whispered as he gently Sherlock's lips, pushing at his shoulder so the man would roll and he could settle between his legs. "Miss you. Want you to feel better. Help," he muttered with a bit of trouble, his thoughts clearly racing.

Sherlock moved easily with John and he looked up at his husband. The hand in his partner's hair slid down to John's cheek, where his thumb rubbed lightly. "I miss you too Love and while I enjoy shagging, and you know I do…" He trailed off with a faint smirk. "I want it to be because you want to, not because you feel obligated to make me feel better." God, when had he come to have so much self control? Just moments before he had practically been begging his husband for a shagging.

Sherlock was...stopping him? John's eyes fluttered shut at his husband's soft touch but opened slowly at the man's words. Right. He took a shaky breath and smiled a bit as he studied Sherlock's face. "Bloody perfect," he muttered softly. "Did you deduce that? Read some special wrinkle in my forehead?" He accompanied the question with a laugh as he turned his head and kissed the center of Sherlock's palm.

Had he just upset John? "I know you Love, better than I know myself sometimes." Sherlock gave his husband a small, gentle smile. "I don't want you to do something you might regret later or even possibly resent me for later. If you want to shag me because you love me and because I am your husband, then I am all for it." A pause. "I guess…I feel like we are past the point of desperate and needy sex because you and I are so much stronger than that now…don't you think?" Grant it, they had almost shagged out of sheer desperation in the bathroom, so maybe he really didn't have a valid point after all.

Sherlock Holmes the philosopher. John nodded a bit and rolled slightly to the side so he could land on the mattress. He laid on his back, his shoulder touching Sherlock's as he looked up at the ceiling. "We have progressed quite a bit," he whispered, clearly deep in thought. Marriage had been hectic at first. All about shagging the moment they could...after the honeymoon, at least. He preferred to forget their first month of marriage. But now they could stop, make educated choices. "This isn't because I don't love you..." He turned his head. "I do. I love you. But...I want to wait."

Sherlock wasn't sure if he regretted those words or not. He still had a hard on and he was probably going to have to take care of it himself later. It was better this way…in the long run. "I know you do and I love you too. I understand if you want to wait and that's okay." He turned so he could rest his cheek on John's shoulder, so he could look at his husband. "I know I said I wanted to sleep on the couch until you were ready, would you mind if…I took that back? I want to be next to you when you sleep, even if I am not sleeping too. We don't have to cuddle if you don't want to either…I just…" He trailed off with a slight shrug.

John felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at Sherlock. "Yeah. That's just fine," he said softly. Of course it was, it always would be. He found it...comforting, really, to know that his husband watched him sleep, kept his head right on his shoulder. It was romantic for them, something that he loved waking up to. Sherlock's eyes locked on him, calculating. It always took his breath away. "We can do whatever you want," he managed to say through a yawn. "This is about you getting better."

"Oh, this isn't just about me. It's about _us_. We are married, _husbands_. Everything I say and do effects _us_ and vice versa. I was an idiot and forgot that apparently, _obviously_." Sherlock leaned over and kissed John on the cheek lightly. "You are tired, exhausted is more like it. I doubt you have slept much if at all these last few days. I am going to grab some food, you go ahead and sleep. Then I'll come right back here and lay with you."

That was when John did his best to hide a cringe. Could he sleep? If he fell asleep would Sherlock get up and do more drugs? They were rational thoughts to him, at least they were while his body fought sleep. But he had to trust Sherlock, needed to believe there would be no more drugs. He finally nodded with another yawn, keeping his eyes locked intently on Sherlock before he lost the battle to sleep.

Once he was sure John was sleeping soundly, Sherlock got out of bed and went into the kitchen. He missed the warmth and comfort of his husband but food was needed if he wanted to keep his strength up and he really didn't want to get so bad he fell down a flight of stairs again. He sighed at his thoughts. Hamish had followed him, so he fed the cat some ham with jam smeared on it before making himself a sandwich. He talked to Hamish some out of habit while he ate and then slipped back into their bedroom. It was hard not to think about wanting drugs, not with that damn itch in his arm. Since John was laying on his back still, Sherlock snuggled his head onto his husband's shoulder, both arms hugging John's, so his body was on the side. Hopefully his husband wouldn't have any nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

The small movement from Sherlock moving back on to the bed made John's face scrunch slightly. He grumbled something and let his head fall to the side, facing his husband. Warmth. That was nice. He smiled slightly before a soft snore came from his mouth. He slept for another hour before his eyes opened slowly. Sherlock. He smiled tiredly, his eyes slipping shut as he struggled to completely wake up. "Hi," he whispered roughly.

"Hey Love." John hadn't slept very long. Was it because of him? Was his husband worrying about him doing drugs, instead of sleeping soundly? Sherlock frowned at his thoughts. Should he tell John he had wanted to use, but hadn't? Or would that just make his husband worry more? "If you are still tired, sleep some more. I will stay right here with you."

Sherlock's words made John smile a bit. It was ironic, he thought, that he had planned on caring for his husband and here Sherlock was making sure he got enough sleep. "'M good," he whispered. "Can I not sleep and still have you here?" He raised a brow curiously as he opened one eye. "You are wonderfully warm. I don't think I want to move."

"I think that can be arranged. A lazy day then? We don't get those often." Sherlock smiled. "Do you remember on our honeymoon when we just laid in bed all day? Snuggling, talking, and snogging. I wish we did that more often." It was difficult having two kids and when chances of alone time arose, it was usually used to shag. Would John be up for that? Was it too soon to ask for that? In some ways he figured, doing that was far more intimate than actually shagging.

The lazy day on their honeymoon. John smiled and nodded a bit. It had been glorious and one of the best days of their entire honeymoon, in his opinion. Right now they had the time, no children...an empty flat. "I would love to lay here with you all day," he said softly, moving his head to gently meet Sherlock's lips. Why not start with snogging? It was the best thing they could do, in his opinion.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. This was good. He closed his eyes in contentment, tugging at John a bit so his husband could roll on top of him. Then John would basically have more control of everything. Just snogging. Nothing else. His husband wanted to wait and the least he could do for John, after everything that happened, was respect his husband's wishes.

John followed the tug from Sherlock, settling on top of his husband and straddling him with ease. He knew what it was for, smiled because this was Sherlock giving him control and respecting him. His tongue darted into his husband's mouth momentarily before he gently pulled away. "I love you," he whispered with a grin. "You are...Sherlock..." He dropped his head and pressed his nose against his husband's ear, giggling slightly.

Sherlock smiled. "Love you too." He couldn't help but smirk, an eyebrow cocking up at John. "Why yes, yes I am." The smirk grew, a hand coming to rest on the back of his husband's head. He scratched his fingers lightly through John's hair. His other came to rest on his husband's cheek. He had never thought he would come to enjoy moments like these, but he had.

"You take my breath away," John whispered into Sherlock's neck. His husband smelled wonderful and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. "I can't imagine waking up one morning without you in my life." One hand ran lightly down Sherlock's side before he opened his mouth and placed a soft kiss behind his husband's ear. "I love you." Now he couldn't stop touching Sherlock, couldn't keep himself from doing what he wanted.

Sherlock closed his eyes again from all the wonderful light touches from John. Hopefully this would be a good day for him and the withdrawals wouldn't be too horrible and ruin everything. He wasn't sure what to reply, so he stayed quiet and just enjoyed the moment. He would think of something soon, he always did.

John's free hand moved behind his husband's head, running gently through the hair at the top of the man's neck. "I would sing to you but apparently I am horrible," he said with a small grin, biting his bottom lip as he pressed his nose into Sherlock's cheek. Lighthearted. This would help return something to normalcy. Maybe help get Sherlock through everything. "Let's make today good. You are going to be fine and I am going to lay here on top of you the entire time."

Sherlock opened his eyes and smirked at John again. "Can't go wrong with that plan." Would something happen to ruin the day? It always felt like something always came along in moments like these. Just don't worry or think about it. "I love spending time like you with this. We should try to make time for this more often. Once or twice a month. What do you think?"

That did sound like quite the good idea but would they manage to do it? With two kids it was difficult to plan anything with certainty. John nodded his head a bit and situated his ear over his husband's heart. Beating. Alive. Sherlock was alive and with him and not doing drugs. "Good," he whispered as he reached his hand out and intertwined his fingers with Sherlock's. Close. Intimate contact. "Very good."

It had been awhile since Sherlock had felt this relaxed and comfortable. He wasn't tired but just laying with John like this was so peaceful and nice. It would be easy to take a nap just like this. Except he didn't want to miss a single moment they were sharing right now. He squeezed his husband's hand gently and his other hand continued to sift through John's short, soft bristles.

The heart beat underneath his ear was steady, calming...and John loved it. It helped soothe his racing thoughts, made him smile because it was fast but strong, just like his husband. Quick-witted and wonderful. His anchor. "I never want to move," he whispered softly. "I want to stay right here with you for the rest of my life. Forget everything around us, all of the trouble...and have you protect me."

Usually Sherlock came up with something to say by now. Was it because in the back of his mind he was worrying about everything? Don't mess this up. Quit thinking. Being with John was enough. It was really, but right now he didn't know how to turn his brain off. Napping seemed the best way for that to happen but his husband was talking and he wasn't going to ruin it.

No talking. Very typical of Sherlock in these situations but John was, naturally, a bit worried given their entire situation. "You are fine, I promise. You're...going to be just fine. You are strong, you have done this before with a lot less to look forward to. But now, a family. Me, Amy and Thomas. All of us," he whispered as he turned his head, placing a kiss right over his husband's heart. "And you are going to do it. I know you will."

Sherlock smiled and kissed John on the head. "I know. You are saying all these amazing things and I can't seem to find the right words to say to you yet. I feel like I usually think of something by now." He moved his hand to the back of his husband's neck and began scratching it soothingly. "I do love you and I know I can get through this because you are right here next to me to help me. There isn't anything we can't get through. I really believe that, Love."

There. At least Sherlock was talking now. That was very good. John nodded a bit and closed his eyes, his ear right back over his husband's heart. "I just like hearing your heart beat. It really doesn't slow down much when you sleep...I checked one time last year. You were fast asleep but still..." His free hand moved to Sherlock's side, his fingers gently tapping out a fast rhythm. _Taptaptap_. _Taptaptap_. He smiled and let his eyes slip closed. "Then you smiled, tightened your arm around me...like a reminder that, of course, you were still here."

Sherlock smirked a bit, fingers still trailing along the nape of John's neck. "Would you mind if I took a nap? You could nap too? If you wanted…" He knew his husband hadn't got enough sleep. So, a husband nap would be nice. John snuggled on top of him, and his arms wrapped around his husband to hold the man above him closer still. Everything felt perfect right now.

"Go ahead. No need to ask me if you need to sleep," John replied with a small grin. Sherlock wanting to sleep was perfect, exactly what the man needed. "Sleep all you want, dear." He let his own eyes close for a long moment. There was no way he was going to get any sleep. Keep Sherlock safe, take care of him...how could he sleep? "I will be right here when you wake up, yeah? I'll be right here."

"Not tired really, just very relaxed. Like laying here with you. I didn't want to sleep and ruin things," Sherlock tried to explain. The hand on John's neck stilled and the other still remained intertwined with his husband's, as his eyes closed and he relaxed even further against the mattress.

"You are not ruining anything by sleeping," John whispered. Best to keep his voice quiet so he didn't wake his husband up. He had relaxed and needed to rest as it was. The sense of comfort he was feeling, though, was making him smile. He could very easily fall asleep right here on top of Sherlock, head over the man's heart. "There you go love." He pressed his nose against Sherlock's chest and smiled warmly. "There you go."

Sherlock slept until early the next morning, waking up just slightly before six. Probably because he had spent six months conditioning his body to wake up at the same time no matter what time he fell asleep. A bit surprising since he hadn't adhered to any kind of sleep schedule in almost two weeks. He opened his eyes slowly, moving his head marginally to see if John was awake yet as well.

It hadn't taken John long to end up falling asleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of Sherlock's chest mixed with the steady thump of his heartbeat had knocked him out. It didn't take much for him to wake up, though. A small bit of movement from Sherlock, the change in his chest movement. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze locked intently on the wall. "Glad you slept," he said, his voice rough with sleep. Now he needed to keep Sherlock company, make sure he was doing all right.

Sherlock smiled up at John. "Guess I needed more sleep than I thought. One, maybe two more days and I think I will be okay. We can bring the children back home in three, I figure. Of course, when they come home will have to be met by your approval." He was probably being selfish, but he wanted them back now. Wanted to be with his whole family. The flat was too quiet now. "If I do well today, do you think we could visit the kids at manor for a bit?"

John yawned and tilted his head, snapping his mouth shut as he rested his chin on Sherlock's chest. His eyes moved slowly over his husband's face. What did he say to that? He was so scared to have the children back, so scared to bring them into the house around Sherlock. "Do you think you are ready to face your Mum? She knows, Sherlock," he whispered softly as he turned his head and inspected their hands. Still intertwined, even after they had slept.

For a brief moment, Sherlock thought John was going to yell at him for even mentioning that. Right. Too soon still. "I would rather deal with her than Mycroft. Mum's a bit more understanding than my dear brother." He frowned a bit. "We don't have to go. I just…I miss them already…" It was a weird feeling and he hadn't really experienced even while working cases and he would be away from home for a few days, sometimes a whole week.

"I miss them, too," John replied after a lengthy pause. Perhaps visiting the kids would help Sherlock. It was normal, something he had every day before the drugs. "Why not? I am sure they would love to see us." He closed his eyes and turned his head, placing several kisses against his husband's chest. "Need to shower first," he muttered against Sherlock's skin. "Need to be clean and all that good stuff or your Mum might actually kill me."

Would he be pushing his luck if he asked to join John in the shower? Probably. "Right. You can go first if you want and then I will take mine." Would his husband trust him alone? John had last night when he went to get food in the kitchen. He really wasn't sure how much leeway his husband was willing to grant him. A bit, he supposed since John had agreed to let him see the children. It was progress at least.

John turned his head to glanced at the door to the bathroom. Right. Shower. That would mean getting up, leaving the heat that was Sherlock in favor of cold air and water that couldn't provide the same comfort. Would asking Sherlock to come shower with him look desperate? He bit his bottom lip and sat up, wincing as the warmth from his chest disappeared instantly. "I... uh..." He lifted an arm, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "Do you want to come with me? Save water and all that...lower bill."

"Yes, of course. Are you sure? I was going to ask but…" Sherlock trailed off with a bit of a shrug as he sat up on the bed. He curled and uncurled his fingers a moment, ignoring the sudden itching sensation on the inside of his elbow. He glanced down at it reflexively and couldn't help but sigh. The withdrawal process was taking longer than last time. Fucking morphine. He would have recovered quicker if it hadn't been for the damn prison infirmary.

It was hard not to miss the direction of Sherlock's eyes. Inside elbow. John looked at his husband for a long moment before leaning forward, not hesitating in the slightest, and placing his mouth on the inside of Sherlock's elbow. Kiss. Soft and gently, his tongue darting out for a moment. Maybe if that area was associated with something better than drugs Sherlock would stop thinking about it. "You are doing so well," he whispered against the skin.

Sherlock's eyes closed automatically at the feeling of John's lips against his skin. And that was his husband's tongue as well. Right. Wouldn't due to get a hard on right before getting naked in the shower with John. He opened his eyes and looked over to his husband. "Thank you." He leaned forward and gave John a quick kiss on the lips.

Should he be done, then? Was Sherlock's kiss a signal? John bit his bottom lip and looked over his shoulder at his husband's feet. Far from over, he figured. It was early in the morning, they had time. He slid down Sherlock's body until he was sitting back on the mattress, lifting on of his husband's feet up with a soft smile. "Of course," he whispered before he placed a kiss on the top of his husband's foot.

It still felt weird to have John kissing his feet, even after admitting why he hadn't wanted it the first time. It was his husband's way of comforting him, Sherlock supposed. He moved so his back was to the head board and his legs were back on the mattress so John would have easier access to his feet. At least he didn't have to worry about being turned on by the kisses.

After several more kisses John lifted his head, letting Sherlock's foot fall in his lap. "Still nothing for you? I just...you know, thought I would give it a try." He shrugged sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, blushing as he glanced back up at his husband. "Wanted to help," he added with a grin. Worth a try, he figured. Maybe...snogging? He climbed back up Sherlock's body, pinning him to the headboard lazily as he met his husband's lips in a languid kiss.

Was John trying to give him an erection? Did that mean his husband was ready? Sherlock let his thoughts get distracted and returned the kiss immediately, matching the pace set by his partner. He wrapped his arms around John, to help steady his husband. He moved a hand up John's shirt and scratched lightly at the skin and the other moved up to his husband's head so fingers could run through John's hair.

Those touches made John's skin feel like it was on fire. He couldn't help but moan softly into Sherlock's mouth. The arms around him were steady and solid, how could he not be aroused right now? After a moment of contemplation, he moved his hips down and rolled them slowly against his husband's. Tentative. Just testing. If Sherlock said anything then he would stop in a heartbeat.

Oh God. Sherlock couldn't help but moan when John rolled into him. Was his husband just teasing him? Or was John ready now? It was hard to tell in his haze of instant arousal. He pushed up into his husband, another moan escaping his lips. With any luck, John would continue things and not put the brakes on things.

John gasped and pulled away from the kiss to glance between them. No stopping now, really. He had gotten them into this, insisted on doing everything. He couldn't just leave Sherlock like this. He rolled his hips down again, one hand dropping to grasp desperately at the sheets on their bed. Maybe they could just do this? Move against each other? Technically that wasn't shagging, it was just getting each other off like teenagers.

Did this mean it was okay to continue? Sherlock was having an unusually hard time reading John right now. He didn't want to go too far but shit, his husband was grinding down into him. He whimpered and he to fight to keep his hands above John's waist. He wasn't sure what was okay and what wasn't. All these stupid rules and boundaries that had never really been explained to begin with were confusing and damn it, very distracting. It was hard to focus on enjoying everything when he was constantly worried about doing something to mess up.

Good. It was good. Except Sherlock wasn't doing much, hardly moving and keeping his hands in one spot. Was something wrong? John thrust his hips several times against Sherlock and bit his bottom lip to hide the noise he wanted to make. So sensitive, it had been too long. Was he just using his husband at this point? "Is this all right with you?" He finally asked, his body shaking with the effort of keeping his hips still.

Sherlock was trying so hard to be good that it took a moment for John's words to register. "Yes…I just…I don't really know what you want or expect from me…" He had been waiting to follow his husband's lead but really John hadn't gone beyond point of grinding into him. If that was all that his husband was willing to give then he would just have to accept it.

"Oh," John whispered as he dropped his head. "I just thought that we could, you know." He cleared his throat. Maybe the sexual aspect of their marriage wasn't fully recovered yet. "I thought we could...like on our wedding night." He blushed at the admission and sat back on Sherlock's thighs. "Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, honestly."

Right of course. "You have all these rules and boundaries and I don't know what any of them are. Look…I willl…just take a shower by myself…" Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. He should have known better. That all this wouldn't really get him what he wanted, but he wouldn't be selfish. He wasn't going to beg John for it. It had to be something his husband was ready for and it obviously wasn't yet.

John bit his bottom lip and moved to stop straddling his husband. "Okay," he whispered as he slid off the bed. "I will just...go shower." He didn't bother to look at his husband. "Sorry," he added as he shut the door. Well, he had definitely ruined the day. The idea of seeing the kids had made his husband happy and he had done and ruined it with his selfish desires. God, he could have Sherlock in the shower with him right now. He sighed as he got under the spray of the warm water.

Sherlock sighed as he watched John leave. Well, he certainly had made a muck of things hadn't he? He slid out of the bed, undressed and put on a robe. It was more comfortable and easier to simply take the robe off when he went to shower. His erection was gone, so that was one less thing to worry about. The doorbell rang and he furrowed his brows because it was still a bit early. Who could possibly be at the door at this hour? At least he had finally fixed the doorbell about a year ago. He tied his robe in place as he walked down the stairs. "Yes?" He asked, opening the door only fractionally to stare at the man outside.

"Yes, hi! Mister Holmes, is it? I'm a reporter with -"

Sherlock had slammed the door shut at the word 'reporter' and went back upstairs. He'd had to do press conferences before but he had never had a reporter show up at his flat like that before. He narrowed his eyes in thought and turned on the telly for the news. Great. He sank into his chair and began petting Hamish when the cat made its way to his lap. This wasn't good. The guard that had been in charge of him was on the news saying he was a violent drug addict and didn't deserve to have children. That…no…his children should be taken away because he was an unfit parent. They couldn't…could they? He knew Mycroft was upset with him, but surely his older brother wouldn't let something like that happen.

John moved out of the shower and wrapped his robe around himself, walking into the bedroom with a small shiver. Where had Sherlock gone? He paused for a moment before he heard the telly in the living room. Right. He moved into the living room and smiled a bit at his husband before the news caught his attention. The prison guard. His heart stopped, he was sure of it. They were saying Sherlock wasn't fit to be a parent. "They...can't do that, can they? T-That is just...he can't." His eyes were wide as he turned to study his husband as he started swaying on his feet.

Sherlock was so deep in his thoughts that it took a moment for him to realize that John was talking to him. He shifted his gaze to his husband and stood up quickly, much to the dismay of Hamish, to support John. "Easy. I don't know. I just think that guy wants his fifteen minutes of fame, as they say. We can talk to Mycroft when we go to see the kids. I am sure everything will be fine." If it came down to, he would move out. At least then John would be able to take care of the children, even if he couldn't.

John looked up at his husband with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "No," he said weakly. "You are a great Dad. They don't know anything." He closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. "No," he repeated before he leaned forward against Sherlock. Too much. The outside world...it was none of their business. Why was their private life the business of London?

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in a hug. He kissed the top of his husband's head. "How about I call Mycroft now and get this sorted? I am sure he knows about it by now. If the Yard wants to inspect the flat for drugs, then let them. There isn't any here. In fact, there isn't anything out of the ordinary to find here. I haven't used for almost a week now, unless you count those idiots giving me morphine at the prison infirmary and that was given to me against my will."

John closed his eyes with a shaky sigh. "No," he whispered. That was the only word he could think about. Mycroft. Right. The government could fix this, yeah? Make everything better? "Please. Mycroft, please." Too much. It was too much and he was tired. Should he be upset at Sherlock for all of this? Or just suck it up? "Mycroft," he repeated before he fell limp against Sherlock.

Sherlock held onto John for awhile, hoping to comfort and calm his husband as best he could. After the shock wore off, would John get mad at him? Kick him out? At least then the family could live in peace. He sighed at his thoughts and he gently led his husband back to their room. He helped John sit on the bed and then reached over to get his mobile. Maybe Mycroft had already sent him a text.

_Manor. Now. We clearly have a problem. –MH_

Mycroft set his mobile down, glancing over at Lestrade who was staring at the telly with a pale face. Amy was cradled in one arm, snoring softly. Siger was in the other, face buried into his Dad's neck. Only God knew where Thomas had run off to. He just had to pray the little boy hadn't seen the news yet.

John groaned and mumbled something, rolling so his back was to Sherlock.

_Obviously. – SH_

Sherlock sent the short text and looked over to John. So, his husband was already mad at him? Great. "I am going to take a quick shower and then we will go to the manor." He took one last look at John before disappearing into the bathroom. He indeed showered quickly, taking it in under ten minutes. He walked back into the bedroom naked and got dressed. "Ready?"

John rolled over to kook at Sherlock, blinking rapidly. "Probably shouldn't go in my robe," he said with a bit of a smile. He moved slowly off the bed toward their dresser, changing into a comfortable outfit. Jeans and a pullover sweater. He looked back at his husband. Calm. "I love you," he whispered as he took a hesitant step forward.

_Get here now. – MH_

Sherlock ignored the buzzing mobile, figuring it was just Mycroft being impatient. He looked over to John instead. "I love you too." He studied his husband for a moment before offering his hand to John so he could lead them outside to black car that was sure to be there by now. "If you want to take the kids home and have me stay at the manor, I would understand." He already had a plan in his head to discuss with Mycroft and Lestrade. It should work, be enough to get media to lose interest anyway.

John moved forward, taking Sherlock's hand as he shook his head. "No. I refuse to give in to some stupid media report. I am not just leaving you there." He smiled warmly and stood on his toes to place a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. "I can't just do that. I tried raising them by myself at one point and I couldn't. I am not even trying that again." He moved out of the room with a tug to Sherlock's hand. "Come mon, let's go get our kids."

Sherlock gave a slight nod and ended up following John, rather than the other way around. As he suspected, the black car was waiting for them. He climbed in after his husband, and gave John's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I am sorry all this has happened. It is all my fault. It could have easily been avoided if I wasn't such a selfish idiot."

"It happens," John replied with a shrug. He should have expected it, really. Nothing in his life was easy or happy for all that long. But it wasn't something he had to tell Sherlock. "It's fine. It's...it will all work out." He turned and gave a warm smile to his husband. There. Maybe it would cheer Sherlock up and distract them for the short car ride. They just needed this short moment together to fix their morning.

Sherlock frowned at John's words but nodded anyway. He turned his head to look out the window, choosing to simply sit in silence the rest of the car ride. When it came to a stop, he climbed out and helped his husband out before walking up to the manor. It didn't take long to find Mycroft and Lestrade in the sitting room. His mother was absent. He wasn't sure if that should worry or reassure him.


	16. Chapter 16

John stood beside Sherlock, loyally holding his husband's hand as his gaze locked intently on their sleeping daughter. She shifted slightly on Lestrade's chest, pressing back into her Uncle's arm with a small squeak.

"So you have heard." Mycroft didn't move from his spot next to his husband. "Clearly it is a problem. We have got a public that now thinks you shouldn't have any children in your house. An obvious worry, one we should have expected. A reporter showed up at your door this morning, am I correct?"

John tensed at that, his head turning swiftly to study his husband.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Yes. I don't know who the bloke was or what paper because as soon as he said he was a reporter I slammed the door on him. You know I don't like talking to the press." He muttered the last bit and shrugged again. "It did make me curious so I turned on the telly and of course saw the news. If the Yard wants to check my flat for drugs, I say let them. There isn't anything there. Hell, they can check my office if they want. Lestrade can't lead the investigation, not with him being my brother-in-law." A pause. "You should let Donavon do it. She has never really cared for me. Hell, get Anderson while you are at it. If people who hate me work the case, then no one can claim partiality. As much as it pains me to say it, they are…good officers and I know they wouldn't purposefully set me up. While we are at it, we can have me screened for drugs. No warrants will be needed. This will show I am cooperating with the Yard and most certainly not violent. That while yes, I am a drug addict I am recovering from it and not currently using. I think that will make the media less interested anyway. It isn't very scandalous if I am a willing participant."

"It is still a problem!" Mycroft was on his feet now, looking at his younger brother with wide eyes. "You used drugs. Searching your flat or bringing you in for a test doesn't fix the fact that they somehow know the drugs were _in_ the apartment. Sherlock, damn it, you kept cocaine in a house around a two and eight year old. How else do you think the media is going to react when they figure this out? You two don't have the liberty of trying to keep this quiet, not after John nearly killed you a few years ago and certainly not with your image all over his damn blog!" John tensed at that, his tired gaze dropping straight to the floor. "But you just had to think of yourself, didn't you Sherlock?"

Right. Sherlock should have expected the angry outburst from Mycroft. "How many times do I need to apologize before it just sounds trite? If I could go back and do it over, I would but I can't. So, you can stand there and continue to yell at me over it or can help me with this. What do you mean they know I had drugs in the flat? No one knew except the four of us standing here, so unless one of you told someone else I can't possibly see how they know that already."

"It is my fault," Nancy said as she finally entered the room. "I was upset and I was talking to one of my friends about you…Sherlock, I am sorry…I should have known better…"

Sherlock wanted to be mad and if it hadn't been his mother, he would have been furious. However, no matter what happened he could never be mad at his Mum. "It is fine Mummy. Like Mycroft said, this is my fault and all the blame falls on me."

"You?" John's head lifted slowly, his voice shaking as he spoke. Nancy? She was the one who got them into this mess? God, he wanted to scream. His entire body was tense and he couldn't help but take a slow step forward.

Mycroft moved instantly to stand in front of his brother-in-law, trying to keep him as calm as possible. "Sherlock, the only thing we can do right now is keep you here and send John home with the kids. Letting you go home with them will just make everything worse." He moved an arm across John's midsection to hold him in place, his gaze still locked coldly on Nancy.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John approach his mother. So, he was just going to do what the media wanted? Just give in? That was really their best option? "I still think they should search the flat and screen me, to show that I know I messed up and I am doing everything I can to fix it," he muttered.

Nancy's gaze faltered under the intense look from John. "I'm sorry," she repeated. She left the room, crying silently to herself.

"We have gone way past that idea of fixing it, Sherlock. People who watch this crap telly, they believe it. Searching the flat? They will believe that the entire Yard is in on it because I am married to Gregory. Do you see where we have a major problem?" Mycroft gently pushed John back and the ex-soldier obeyed, taking a step back to stand next to Sherlock again. "The only thing we can do right now is hope that you are out of the spotlight soon."

John looked at his husband for a long moment, glancing at Mycroft before brushing past both of them. He was exhausted, needed to get his emotions in check...and apologize to Nancy. There was no reason to act like he was. He followed after her, entering her room slowly.

"Legally…they can't take them, can they? I am clean now and as long as I never do drugs again, which I won't, they have no right to say I am an unfit parent. I screwed up, I know that. I am working _really_ hard to fix everything." With John out of the room, Sherlock finally let himself fall apart. He sank into a chair. "They can't…if I lost my family…then…" He would go right back to using drugs and heavily too. It would probably be the death of him, but without John and the children what was there left to live for?

"Legally, they can," Mycroft replied softly as he sat across from his younger brother. "Legally, since they do have reason to believe that the house is unsafe, they could take them away from both of you." His voice was soft, weak...because it wasn't supposed to happen. Except he should have expected it with these two. Something would always go wrong.

Sherlock nodded numbly. God, he was an idiot. Why had he…? He closed his eyes. His husband shouldn't be punished for his screw up. "John should be able to keep the children. If…if…if I divorce him. Then he could at least keep the children…?" He really needed something right now, but that would only be proving everyone right.

Mycroft's head shot up at that statement, eyes wide. "No. You are not doing that," he stated softly. "You aren't getting a divorce. That will destroy him. We both know it will. It won't do you any good, either. We're not letting that happen. Right now we are just doing some damage control, all right? Keep you here, send the kids home. Give it a week at the most and you two will be out of the news." He shrugged because it was the most they could do.

Sherlock bowed his head in defeat. "Whatever you think is best," he muttered. He was tired of fighting and he didn't have to be strong right now because John wasn't in the room. Maybe he would take a case while he was away, assuming he could focus on anything but his own misery and self loathing.

Amy stirred slowly in Lestrade's arm, opening her eyes and studying her cousin for a moment before she sat up. She rubbed at her eyes before turning and noticing Sherlock. "Papa!" She slid eagerly away from her Uncle, climbing into Sherlock's lap with a wide grin. "Papa," she repeated softly as she wrapped her arms around the man's neck the best she could manage.

Sherlock managed a small smile. "Hi Baby Girl." This would be the last time he would hold her for awhile, maybe ever. He couldn't help himself and he wrapped her up in a tight hug. No crying. He wasn't going to cry in front of his daughter damn it.

Amy grinned eagerly and let herself relax against Sherlock. "'Mas and I, we gots to have a sleepover with 'Egir! Can you and Dada stay a'night, too?" She pulled her head back and her smile turned quickly into a frown as she reached a hand up to wipe some tears away. "Papa, no crys."

"That's real good Baby Girl." Sherlock forced another smile. "I am sorry. I'm upset right now but everything will be fine, just you wait and see."

Amy nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip and curling one of her hands into Sherlock's shirt. "I knows that. Everything always turns out fine. You tells me that." She smiled weakly and sniffed a bit. "Please dun cry. I's gonna cry then, too," she whispered as she buried her face into her father's shirt.

"I am fine now. See?" Sherlock smiled down at little Sandi and had managed not to cry further. "No need to cry Baby Girl." He kissed the top her head. "I love you. Don't you ever forget that, okay? No matter what happens, Papa loves you so much."

Amy sniffed again and looked up at Sherlock, her eyes wide as she studied him. "Is somethings wrong? Am I in trouble?" She coughed slightly as she clutched tighter to her father, a small, shaky sob escaping her chest. "Sorry. I's sorry."

"Oh no, Baby Girl. You haven't done anything wrong. Never you. You are the best, perfect little girl a daddy could ever ask for. I did something bad Sweetie, so I have to stay away from the flat for a little while." Sherlock didn't know if he should be telling her this. God, he was going to miss her third birthday. It was in a couple of days away now. He hadn't even bought her anything yet.

Gone? Why was Papa going to be gone? Amy didn't like the sound of that one bit and let out a loud wail, pulling at Sherlock's shirt as she wiggled in his grasp. A typical toddler's tantrum because, honestly, she couldn't help it. Being away from one parent again? She didn't want that to happen.

Well, that had been a mistake. He would never be a good father, would he? Maybe it would be better for the children if they were taken away from him. He obviously didn't deserve them. Sherlock stood up slowly from the chair, making sure to hold on tightly to little Sandi. "Everything will be fine Baby Girl. I'm so sorry Amy," he whispered into her hair and then kissed the top of her head.

The feeling of being in the air, of having Sherlock's arms wrapped securely around her, calmed Amy. She sniffed and took several shaky breaths, resting her head on her father's chest as her red eyes darted around the room. She curled her toes into Sherlock's shirt as she coughed slightly. "O-Otay," she muttered with a slight hiccup. "You's fine, Papa."

Sherlock smiled a bit. "Everything will be okay. You will still see me. I am just going to stay her with your Grandma and Uncles. I won't be far away." He ran a hand soothingly down her back. "I know what you need!" He pulled her away from his chest and then held her high in the air, a smirk on his face. He brought her back down to face, where he pretended to attack her stomach.

Amy's eyes went wide before she giggled, her hands grasping gently at Sherlock's hair. "Papa!" She squealed and wiggled a little, a wide grin on her face as she looked down at him. "Silly Papa!"

Sherlock grinned proudly. "I got you now Baby Girl! There is no one around to save you. What are you going to do?" He lifted her in the air again and then brought her back down so he could get her stomach with his mouth, to mock bite at it.

Amy squealed again, closing her eyes and putting her hands on Sherlock's forehead with gentle pushes. "Papa!" She giggled loudly and moved a hand to push gently at her father's cheek.

* * *

"Nancy, I'm...sorry," John muttered as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I just...I don't know what to do anymore. I shouldn't have said anything to you or acted like I did."

Nancy couldn't bring herself to look at her son-in-law. "I was upset. I needed to talk to someone and I don't know…I thought I could trust her. We have been friends for years. John, I have ruined my baby boy's life…"

John bit his bottom lip and glanced around her bedroom. They didn't need any of this, especially not Nancy. "I...it is fine," he whispered as he took a step forward. "It's going to be a bit tough but I don't blame you." There. Maybe that would help calm her down because, honestly, he felt sick to his stomach and didn't know how much longer he was going to stay strong. He could really go for a drink right now.

"It isn't fine!" Nancy screeched. "You don't have to blame me John, I blame myself." She sighed and moved away from her son-in-law.

John winced and let his eyes dart around the room. Too much. Way too much. He found the small bin beside Nancy's bed and dropped to his knees in front of it, dry heaving several times. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough in the slightest.

Nancy frowned and turned around to look at John. "Dear…I'm sorry. I am not being very helpful to either of us. I'm sure you are right, that everything will work out fine." She moved to stand by her son-in-law, a hand rubbing up and down his back soothingly.

Everything would be fine? John had just practically thrown up in front of his mother-in-law and was stuck on the ground like some sort of idiot. None of this was all right. He sat back with a small sob. He couldn't handle any of this anymore. Confusing Sherlock, refusing sex...everything. "I have ruined him. I...God, Nancy. I stopped sleeping with him and now he hardly kisses me, doesn't want to sleep in the same bed...I've ruined him."

Nancy's frown deepened and she was quiet a thoughtful moment. "No you didn't Dear. Sherlock…he ruined himself when he took those drugs," she said softly.

John shook his head. "I drove him to it. With Amy. God, Nancy, I _cheated_ on him and he is raising her like his own when he shouldn't have to. It is just extra stress. Being married to me and taking care of Amy. Then Thomas...God, I did all of this." He closed his eyes and let his shoulder's fall forward with a shake of his head. "This is all my fault. All of it."

Nancy shook her head. "If Sherlock thought of Amy as 'an extra mess' he wouldn't have married you and taken on the responsibility as a father. And you both agreed to take Thomas in. None of this is your fault. You can't blame yourself for my son's poor judgment call. John Watson, you are the best thing that has _ever_ happened to my baby boy."

John looked up at Nancy for a moment and slowly stood up, swaying on his feet before looking at her door. "We should probably go back," he stated as he refused to meet her gaze. He couldn't. Too weak, too much emotion. There was no reason for it.

Nancy nodded slowly and was about to say something to John when she noticed Thomas standing there and staring at them both. He was crying. Oh no. How long had the child been standing there?

Thomas looked from his grandma to his Dad. "Daddy used drugs? Is that the bad thing you were talking about? Why would Daddy use drugs? School says they are bad for you. Dad…did you really ruin Daddy?" He sniffled as tears continued to stream down his face.

John tensed and closed his eyes. Damn it. Now he had a child who understood everything and had apparently heard what he had said. "Thomas, mate..." He moved toward their son, dropping back to his knees to pull the boy into a tight hug. "I didn't do anything to Daddy, all right? And...and Daddy did use drugs but he stopped. He isn't using drugs anymore, all right?"

Nancy excused herself so John could be alone with Thomas.

Thomas was so lost, confused and scared right now. "Dad…I'm scared…" He clung tightly to John's shirt still crying.

John took a shaky breath and shook his head. "It is going to be just fine, Thomas. We are figuring everything out, yeah? And nothing is going to happen." He moved and placed a quick kiss on the boy's cheek. "Do you trust me, Thomas? Because I am going to fix everything, you just wait and see."

Thomas gave a small nod. "Is Uncle Gregory going to take Daddy to jail for using bad drugs? Will Amy and I still be able to visit Daddy?" He had so many questions and he still didn't understand a lot of what was going on.

John smiled a bit and shook his head. "Oh, my little boy," he whispered as he ran a hand through Thomas's hair. "Daddy isn't going to jail. He is just going to stay with Grandma and your Uncles for a little while, all right? And we can visit Daddy all you want. Everything is going to be just fine."

Thomas nodded slowly, sniffling still as his tears finally stopped falling. "Okay Dad. Can we go see Daddy now? Please?"

John looked up at the sound of Amy's laughing and squealing, nodding as he picked Thomas up. The boy would probably say he was too old but right now Thomas just needed comfort. "Of course we can, kiddo. It sounds like he is in a very good mood and like Amy needs some rescuing. Think you are up to that, my little prince?" He grinned at Thomas as he held him close and moved to head downstairs.

"Dad!" Thomas protested but ended up settling into John after being picked up. "I think I can handle that!" He puffed out his chest dramatically.

John grinned and moved faster, taking Thomas downstairs and setting him on the floor in front of Sherlock and Amy. "Prince Thomas, to the rescue!" He declared with a chuckle as he sat back on the couch, taking it all in since it clearly wouldn't be happening at their flat any time soon.

"Oh no! Not Prince Thomas! I am in trouble now!" Sherlock brought little Sandi back down to his chest and turned his back to their son. "You will never save her!"

"I'll save you Princess!" Thomas declared loudly. He grabbed onto his daddy's leg and clung there. "You won't get away from me!"

"Oh! He got me!" Sherlock did a controlled fall toward the couch. "You win! I will release the Princess!"

Amy grinned and crawled away from Sherlock with a large grin, looking at Thomas proudly. "Thank you, 'Mas!" She climbed from the couch and gave him a hug. "My hero," she declared proudly as she climbed up her father's body and sat on Sherlock's chest. "Take dat, you evil dragon!" She pushed gently at his cheek and giggled.

John sat back and watched them all with a soft smile. Sometimes it amazed him that Sherlock thought he wasn't a family man. It was clear he was a perfect father, meant to take care of children. He seemed more apt to it than John, really.

"I have been beaten! Mercy kind Prince and pretty Princess. I promise I will never eat another princess again and I will be a good dragon." Sherlock looked up at his children with wide eyes.

Thomas smiled. "Of course Princess! It is my duty as a Prince to protect you!" He eyed his Daddy suspiciously. "I don't know. Princess, what do you think? Should we spare this poor beast or shall I slay him now with my mighty sword?"

Amy tensed and glanced back at John. "Dada?"

"Oh, my beautiful Princess and handsome Prince, I wish not to impede on such important decisions within your kingdom!" John said with mock shock, looking down at his husband with a laugh.

"Big words," Amy mumbled before look back at Sherlock. "I thinks Papa already tried to eated me once. Prince 'Mas, slays him!" She crawled on to the couch with a proud grin and looked at her older brother.

"No!" Sherlock put his hands up to face. "Please! I beg for mercy!"

Thomas crawled up onto the couch and used a pillow to hit his Daddy in the head with a few times.

Sherlock struggled a moment before he allowed his body to go limp and his eyes closed.

Thomas smiled and put a foot on his Daddy's chest. He puffed out his chest. "I am victorious against this fearsome dragon! It will no longer be a threat to our kingdom!"

Amy frowned slightly as Sherlock stopped moving, looking up at Thomas before crawling toward her father's head. "Papa?" She asked worriedly. "Papa, 's a joke. Wake up," she whispered as she glanced back at John with a small sniff.

"Oh, Amy, he is fine." John moved forward and placed a gentle, soothing hand on her back. "Just wait," he whispered into her ear as he reached a hand out and gently took Sherlock's hand in his own.

Had he gone too far? He had been trying to be a good parent. Make little Sandi feel better but now she going to cry. Sherlock opened his eyes and turned his head to look at John and Amy. "I am fine Baby Girl. I was just pretending, okay?"

Thomas curled up on his Daddy's chest, worn out from the excitement. He closed his eyes, head nestled against Sherlock's shoulder.

Amy's eyes lit up as Sherlock moved, grinning. "I knows," she lied with a small laugh. "Pretend. I does that all the time." She nodded and moved forward, placing a quick kiss on her father's cheek. "A'cause dragons is scary and you's isn't," she declared like it was a very obvious statement. "Loves you," she whispered as she crawled back to sit happily in John's lap.

John looked at his husband proudly, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. "You are wonderful," he declared as Amy shifted slightly and finally found a comfortable position and fell asleep. "A very perfect father."


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock smiled at little Sandi but it turned into a frown as his attention moved to John. "If I was a perfect father, I would be going home with you later today." He looked down at the sleeping children, an arm wrapping around Thomas to support the boy so he could sit up into a more comfortable position.

"If anybody saw what you just did they would raise Hell to make sure you kept these kids," John replied instantly, his eyes set and serious. "You are the best father I have ever seen, Sherlock. You play with them, comfort them. You claim you never know what to do, but you always do. It is such a natural reaction for you." God, he just had to convince his husband, had to make Sherlock see that he was a fantastic parent. "You're wonderful, all right? You are not convincing me of anything different."

"I just…do all the things with them I wish my father had done with me," Sherlock admitted quietly with a slight shrug. "I forget Thomas is still a boy. After surviving the island, I look at him more like an adult. Today he seemed so happy to be playing with me. Do you think he will end up hating me for not being there for him sooner?

John looked over at Thomas and gently shook his head. "No, I think he will respect you for finally stepping in and doing what you have been." Which was so very true. Thomas was intelligent and John knew the little boy would just move ahead, keep his head held high, and not show weakness. That's who Thomas was. "I think you are raising them like you need to be, much better than anything than I can do, really."

Sherlock frowned at John's words. "You are a wonderful father. You are there for the children far more than I am. They love you so much my dear doctor. I know you will be amazing with them back at the flat." His free hand reached out to touch his husband's arm, fingers running down the length of it gently.

John let his gaze move down to study Sherlock's fingers. The soft touch sent a small shiver through his body and he grinned. "I never really had a Dad that was involved in my life. I'm just...I'm guessing on everything I do." He laughed softly because he had never told that to Sherlock. Never wanted to worry his husband. "But I am trying so hard for both of us. I want this family to be perfect."

"I'm guessing too Love. I am trying so hard not to do what my father did. In some ways, I feel like I am worse father than he ever was. I used cocaine while our children were in the flat, I had a secret stash there just in case. I don't even know what the hell I was thinking anymore. They…they have every right to take the children away." Sherlock sighed at his thoughts.

"No they don't," John nearly snapped, grabbing his husband's hand and squeezing it. "No. You are an amazing father and we all have a lapse in judgment. A year and a half ago I came back to the flat drunk and demanded you shag me while Thomas was still in the living room. Remember that? I learned though. I haven't been out drinking with Lestrade since," he muttered weakly. There was no way he could let Sherlock break down.

"I don't know what would happen to me if I couldn't see them anymore. I would…" Sherlock shook his head, unable to say what he had been thinking earlier. He would end up dead in a gutter somewhere most likely with a needle sticking out his arm. The thought made him sick. He couldn't lose John and the kids. He was certain it would quite literally be the death of him.

"Don't talk like that," John said softly. He needed to stay strong, keep Sherlock positive. "In a week you are going to be home and this will be a thing of the past. You're not losing Amy or Thomas. They are going straight back to 221B and our family will recover. We always do, yeah?" He lifted Sherlock's hand and placed a soft kiss on the man's knuckles. "We always do. And this isn't any different."

Sherlock sighed and shrugged. "Maybe. I guess you are right." He didn't feel nearly as confident as John sounded. He hated when his self-assurance and arrogance failed him because he didn't know how to deal with it still. He sighed again, trying to ignore his thoughts because he knew they would end up beating him if he let them. "We will get through this." He needed to believe that but it was difficult.

"You _know_ I'm right. That is what you have to believe because you aren't getting rid of me," John whispered with a bit of a smile. "Don't make me put these two down for a nap and snog you to make sure you understand," he added with a playful wink. Normalcy. Something to keep his husband's thoughts up. "You are fine, you always will be and I am staying by your side."

Sherlock gave a slight nod. Right now he wasn't in the least bit interested in snogging. Besides, any kind of intimacy lately hadn't ended well anyway. He sighed at his thoughts, wishing he was alone right now. Not yet. After John left with the children he could retreat to one of the secret passages in the manor. It would have to be one he didn't frequent, otherwise he was certain Mycroft would find him and any chance at being alone would be shot to shit.

John shifted slightly on the couch to the slight dismay of Amy, her little face scrunched as she pressed it tighter against his chest. "I didn't mean to ruin our sex life," he whispered. Because he had. Taken it, thrown it out a window...he had completely demolished it. "That...wasn't my intention, I swear. I just wanted to-" God, he didn't even know anymore. Their marriage was slowly going to sink, starting with this. "But I have ruined it, haven't I?"

"I wouldn't say you ruined it. Made it a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but certainly not ruined. I didn't know what was acceptable or if you were ready, so I wasn't sure how far was okay to go with you. I tried to follow your lead but..." Sherlock trailed off with a bit of a shrug. He was usually left feeling sexually frustrated but no need to say that.

"I want to fix it. I feel so frustrated when we stop," John muttered as he glanced around the living room. "I could stay tonight," he stated hopefully. "We could...and I really mean it. I want you, Sherlock. I can't do this anymore. I want to be with you, feel you above me or below me, hear you moan." He closed his eyes and gathered his racing thoughts. "The last thing I wanted to do was make everything uncomfortable."

Sherlock wanted that badly but with everything going on it probably wasn't a good idea. "John, I would love for that but with the media painting me as an unfit parent it would be unwise for you not to be with them...just in case. Maybe tomorrow. When you bring the kids over. While they are playing out in the garden or napping. We can go down to my secret room, like on our honeymoon. Make it special like that night?"

John felt his gut twist. Was Sherlock just turning him down and pushing him away? "How would they know? We are hidden, me staying the night...we will be in the same house as them," he whispered with more harshness than he intended. God, he was being selfish. He wanted it tonight, wanted to feel the closeness and protectiveness he constantly felt when he was with Sherlock. "I...tomorrow then. Yeah." He closed his eyes and relaxed further against the couch, his grip tightening slightly on Amy.

Oh. For some reason Sherlock thought John would have the kids taken back to the flat for Mrs. Hudson to watch. "Yeah. Tonight will work tonight then. I didn't realize the children would be here as well. Same plan though, secret passage? I am sure I could nick some of Mycroft's lubricant." He gave his husband a smirk.

John chuckled a bit at the idea. Mycroft's lube? God, apparently it was all flavored from what he remembered when Nancy talked about the honeymoon. "I am sure he has blueberry," he muttered with a knowing smirk and a wink. It was so odd, though, to be planning to make love. Sure, he had brought it upon himself, but he hated it. Shagging for them was spontaneous. Well, spontaneous enough. Free time was hard to come by with a family. He was more grateful for Mrs. Hudson than he thought he would ever be.

Sherlock smirked back but it faded as he studied John. "Is everything all right Love?" His husband was thinking about something that much was obvious but he wasn't sure what exactly. Thomas groaned and shifted on him. He looked down at their son. The children would probably be awake soon and it would be time for them to get lunch.

John glanced at his husband with a bit of a laugh. Of course. Sherlock was a genius, he couldn't keep things to himself. "Just excited, that is all. You know me, always thinking," he muttered as he glanced at Thomas. Their kids certainly enjoyed sleeping. "Odd to be planning shagging is all. Not bad, really. Just different for us."

Sherlock gave a slight nod. He hadn't really thought about it before. He supposed John was right though.

Thomas groaned again. "You guys talk too much," he muttered as he woke up. "Dad wanders how I know about sex already." He climbed off his Daddy. "I am going to see if Charlie has lunch ready yet." He disappeared from the sitting room.

Sherlock arched a brow. "Our son knows about sex already? He isn't even nine yet… Hell, I didn't even know what it was until…well it doesn't really matter…" He cleared his throat as he trailed off with a shrug.

John blushed while he watched their son walk away. "Um, yeah. Yes actually. He does know about sex." He looked over at Sherlock with a chuckle. "We _do_ talk about it a bit. And he- Wait. You didn't know _anything_ about sex until...?"

Amy stirred slightly and opened her eyes, blinking wearily. "Dada, wha's sex?" She asked tiredly.

Sherlock was about to answer but now little Sandi was awake. Of course she would would ask that question. He looked to John with raised eyebrows and then a smirk slowly formed on his lips. "Dada why don't you explain that to Baby Girl? I am going to see if Thomas needs help with lunch." The smirk got bigger as he got up from the couch.

John playfully narrowed his eyes as Sherlock walked away. "Maybe when you are a little older, Amy-bear," he whispered against the top of her head. She was quiet, her eyes wide and locked intently on her Daddy. She seemed to have accepted his answer. He stood slowly and kept her supported against his chest. "Let's get you some lunch," he added as they entered the kitchen. He made sure to bump Sherlock with his hip.

"Nanas," Amy declared softly into John's shirt.

Sherlock had just finished making two cups of tea when John bumped him. He smirked at his husband as he picked up his cup. "The other one is for you Love." He reached over to the fruit basket, took out a banana, peeled it and offered to little Sandi. "For you Baby Girl." He finally took a sip out his mug. A family lunch. Maybe he would even eat.

John reached across his husband and took the cup of tea, taking a sip as he watched Amy. She eagerly bit into the fruit, some of it squeezing out the side of her mouth. John couldn't help but laugh. "Oi, dear." He looked at Sherlock with a small grin. "You are supposed to give her a _little bit_. Not the whole thing." He wiped some of the banana away and took a sip of his tea with his free arm.

Sherlock smirked at John and then shrugged. "Baby Girl usually eats it just fine. She is still tired, aren't you little Sandi?" He sipped on his tea, as he watched Thomas refuse help making a sandwich from Charlie.

"I can do it! I am not baby anymore!" Thomas frowned and slopped together ham, cheese, ketchup and mustard between two pieces of white bread.

"Son, Charlie is an adult. Please don't speak to him like that."

"He is just a servant," Thomas mumbled.

"Thomas Curtis! He is still a person _and_ your elder. Apologize this instance!" Sherlock seldom used his son's first and middle name.

Thomas flinched visibly, muttered an apology, then fled the kitchen with his plate of food.

Everything happened so fast that by the time Thomas darted out of the kitchen he was struggling to catch up. "Sherlock," he said softly with a frown as Amy took another large bite of her banana. "Don't yell at him. He is scared enough as it is," he added as he turned his head so Amy couldn't hear his next words. "He saw the news reports, Sherlock. He is worried we are leaving him."

Sherlock sighed and then frowned as he watched Thomas leave the kitchen. He had never really yelled at the boy before, but it had really upset him that his son had called Charlie 'just a servant' because to him, the man was practically a surrogate father. More of a father to him than his own was anyway. John's words finally registered. "He knows?" Oh. He sighed again, staring down into his cup of tea thoughtfully.

"I...yeah, he does," John muttered as he set his cup down to wipe some banana from the side of Amy's mouth. "He talked to me about it," he added as their daughter squealed and smashed more of the fruit in her mouth. "I mean, I am not saying he didn't deserve to be disciplined. He shouldn't have said that about Charlie. But...he is also just really scared. You would be, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I see. Right." Great. He put the unfinished cup of tea on the counter. He definitely was not eating lunch now. Any appetite he might have had was gone. He should probably go talk to Thomas even though he really didn't feel like doing so right now. Should he admit to John that he _was_ scared? No. He needed to be strong for his husband, his family.

Well, that had certainly ruined any sort of family moment they had. John frowned a bit and bounced Amy slightly on his hip. She giggled as she finished off the banana. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ruin anything. I just," he paused and cleared his throat, licking his lips. "I thought you should know. I will be the first to admit that I am a bit nervous even though I know nothing is going to happen. We have got Mycroft on our side." He leaned forward and gently met his husband's lips, much to the disgust of their daughter.

Sherlock briefly returned the kiss. Did it bother John that they relied on Mycroft for so many things? Or was it just him? He was surprised his older brother continued to come through for them really. He sighed at his thoughts and began to move in the direction his son had taken off. "I am going to go talk to Thomas."

John watched Sherlock for a long moment and licked his lips, clearing his throat as Amy rested her head on his shoulder. "I am going to put her down for a nap. I will...be upstairs, yeah?" He grinned a bit before moving the opposite direction out of the kitchen. "Sherlock..." He turned to study his husband before winking. "I love you." There. Now he could go upstairs. He started toward the guest rooms that he knew would be equipped for Amy.

Sherlock managed a slight smile as he turned to look at John. "I love you too." He wanted to mention to his husband that their daughter had just got up from a nap but he didn't want John to think he was trying to tell him how to be a parent. Maybe little Sandi was still tired or maybe he was just so bad at parenting he didn't know how often Amy went down for a nap. He sighed at his thoughts and found his son talking to Lestrade.

Thomas frowned and dropped his gaze as soon as he saw his Daddy. Was he still in trouble? Was he going to get yelled at again? Was it because of the bad drugs? School had said people can change when under the influence of drugs or alcohol. "Daddy…are you on drugs right now?" He lifted his gaze to look up at Sherlock.

Lestrade tensed and looked at Sherlock, closing his eyes for a long moment. God, he had heard the news report and now...now Sherlock was being asked the worst possible question by his son. "Thomas, he isn't," Greg whispered gently as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's not on drugs right now. Don't...don't ask him that."

Sherlock stopped in mid step. He supposed he deserved that. He gave a slight smile to Lestrade. "It's fine Greg." He looked down at Thomas. "No, I am not. I promise. I won't be ever again either, okay? I made a stupid, stupid mistake. People make mistakes." A pause. "Even me." He let a small smirk twitch on his lips.

Thomas looked up at his Daddy with wide eyes and nodded slowly. "O-okay. You are my hero Daddy…I didn't think you could ever do anything wrong…" He dropped his gaze again, clearly heartbroken that the perfect image he had painted of Sherlock had been shattered.

Was Greg impeding on some sort of father and son moment? Siger certainly wasn't old enough to have those moments and he was lost. He stood slowly and patted Sherlock on the back. "Good on you, mate," he muttered before brushing past them and heading toward Siger's room.

John had finally managed to get Amy to fall asleep, humming gently to her. The moment he stepped into the living room, though, he froze. Oh. Well, he had missed something. "Everything all right then?"

Sherlock gave a slight nod to Lestrade as the Detective Inspector left. He looked back down to Thomas and frowned. Shit, the look on his son's face and it was his fault. Had he ruined the boy? He looked over to John. He wasn't sure if everything was all right.

Thomas looked from his Daddy to Dad. "I don't know," he whispered. He didn't know anything anymore. Everything was wrong. He wanted that moment back in the living room where they were all laughing and smiling. "Daddy, did you use drugs because of me? Because I was bad for getting in fights?"

Shit. No. No. John bit his bottom lip and looked around the living room. That was not what Sherlock needed to hear right now. Did he step in and say something or let Sherlock handle it? Maybe he should help. "Thomas, none of it was you," he whispered as he moved to be right beside his husband. "None of it was you, our little boy." He leaned forward and ran a hand through the boy's hair.

Sherlock was shocked into silence and it took a moment to realize John had spoken. He finally shook his head slowly. "Thomas, no. Not you. Never you. You aren't bad for getting in fights. You were trying to stand up for your family and there is nothing wrong with that." Shit, had just condoned violence to his son? Why was being a parent so difficult?

Thomas looked at his Dad for a moment and then over to his Daddy. He ran over to Sherlock and hugged his Daddy at just above the knees, because it was as high as he could reach. "Daddy! I love you! I don't care you did something bad! You are still my Daddy!"

There, getting things fixed. John watched the two of them for a long moment and moved back to the couch. Not his place to interfere at all. Let them fix it and everything would end up fine. He moved to lay on his back, stretching across the cushions with a small groan of pleasure. His muscles felt amazing and he let his eyes slip closed.

Sherlock smiled and returned the hug, embracing Thomas tightly. "I love you too, Son."

"I am going to go outside and play in the garden! I promise not to break anything!" Thomas grinned and ran off.

Sherlock arched a brow as he watched his son run off. Fixing things with children was easier than adults that much was for sure. He moved over to the couch, looking down at John. "Is there room for two on there?" He smirked down at his husband.

John cracked one eye open and watched Thomas scamper out of the living room before glancing up at his husband. "I don't know, I am pretty big." He folded his arms under his head and smirked the best he could. "I'm sure we could make it work, though. I wouldn't mind making it work." He took a calming breath to try and keep his cock under control. If Sherlock was just looking for contact and snuggling then he didn't want to force anything to happen.

Sherlock smirked broadly and laid down on John. He shifted a bit, so his bony joints wouldn't jab into his husband too much. He placed his head on John's shoulder. "I love you." He tilted his head a bit so he could kiss his husband on the cheek. It was nice to snuggle into John, it was the most comforting thing he could think of.

That bony body of Sherlock's was so sharp no matter how he managed to lay down. It wasn't horrible, though. It was nice to have Sherlock so close. John wrapped his arms around his husband, lifting his head for a moment. "I love you too," he whispered as he tilted his head to meet his husband's lips in a slow kiss. He needed to stay in control and make sure they didn't go too far. It was the living room and somebody from the family could walk in at any moment.

Sherlock kept the kiss going for a bit, but let John control it. "I can't wait until tonight Love." Once the kiss ended he put his head back onto his husband's shoulder. This was nice. It always was. He loved snuggling with John. It let him forget about life for a little while and just concentrate on being close with his husband.

Tonight. God, if he kept thinking about tonight then he would certainly get excited too fast. John nodded a bit in reply, a hand moving to tangle in the loose ends of Sherlock's hair. "Are you shagging me, then?" He asked softly as he studied the ceiling with a sigh. It had patterns, it was easy to follow and a good distraction. "It's up to you, I mean. I don't want to force anything."

Shit. Were things still awkward between them? Sherlock closed his eyes from the feeling of John's hand in his hair. "I don't know. We can do whatever you want. Giving, receiving, slow, fast, gentle, or hard." He wasn't really picky when it came to sex, although admittedly there were some things he liked better depending on his mood. He figured John should decide, maybe it would help ease his husband back into the idea of them shagging.

John bit his bottom lip in thought before grinning a bit. "I want...I want to shag you," he finally muttered, blushing a bit. He hated being so pushy when they talked about making love, hated feeling demanding. "Slow. I want to talk to you and tell you how wonderful you are." He smiled a bit at that. It sounded like quite the idea to him so now he just had to hope Sherlock enjoyed it, too. For a little bit it would be a distraction, get their minds off of everything going on around them.

Sherlock nodded. "That sounds wonderful." He snuggled into John further. "I can't wait for you to make love to me." He brought a hand up to his husband's chest, his fingers trailing along the fabric lightly. God, if they kept talking about it he was sure he would get an erection here and now. Beg John to take him here and now, except they were on a couch in the middle of the living room at the manor. Probably not the best place to shag his husband.

"Do you remember when we were in the hospital and your Mum walked in on us?" John whispered with a laugh. It had been horrible and awkward all at once. Sherlock had been so eager to continue and he had forced himself to forget. "She would probably kill me if we shagged on this couch. Knowing our luck she would catch us." He paused before glancing at his husband. "I think she has seen my dick enough."

Sherlock looked up at John with a smirk. "Maybe she liked what she saw. Mum's always had a thing for military men." The smirk got bigger. "Now I kind of want you to shag me here. Not because I want my mother to see your dick again but I always get excited by the prospect of getting caught." Places they had shagged were evidence of that.

Oh...God. John blushed at that and looked around. It was quiet. Thomas was outside, Mycroft, Lestrade, Amy and Siger were all upstairs. Nancy might not come downstairs... "Think they keep some spare lube around here somewhere?" He finally asked with a growing grin. There was no way he was going to say no to that. Might as well have their first time back to shagging be absolutely amazing.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had only been joking but all right then. "Let me check the guest bathroom." Shit, he was getting an erection now. He scrambled off John and had to force himself to walk calmly to the lavatory. No bottles of lubricant but there was Vaseline, it would have to do. He hurried back to his husband, the hard on an obvious bulge in his trousers now.

John already had his hand over the obvious outline of his penis, palming it with several soft gasps. "God, Sherlock." He grabbed the Vaseline and set it on the floor just next to the couch, pulling his husband down into a sloppy and needy kiss. Now he wanted everything. Wanted to scream and make sure everybody in the manor knew. Make Sherlock say his name. "Want you."

Sherlock whimpered into the kiss, pressing hips into John. "Oh God yes. Please," he whispered. He pressed his lips against his husband's again, the kiss just as sloppy and needy as the last one. It made him moan into his husband's mouth. Should they try to be quiet? There were children in the manor after all.

Now. There was no sense of self control in John's body at all. He _needed_ Sherlock. He carefully maneuvered them before pinning Sherlock to the cushions and gently pulling his trousers and pants down. "Quiet," he whispered as he placed a soft kiss against his husband's chest, letting his tongue dart out to run up to Sherlock's collarbone. If somebody caught them...Jesus, the Holmes Manor would probably ban them forever.

Sherlock followed his husband's movements easily and nodded a bit. Quiet. He could be silent, right? He hadn't been noisy when they first started but now it was harder than before. He had come to quite enjoy all the noises they made when shagging. He bit his bottom lip as he felt John's tongue on his neck. God, that felt wonderful. He couldn't help but press up eagerly into the man above him.

John grinned against Sherlock's neck, tossing his husband's trousers and pants on to the floor and situated himself between the man's legs. "You look amazing," he whispered as he moved a hand up Sherlock's shirt and scratched gently at the skin. "You are amazing. So amazing." He grinned and started undoing the buttons on his partner's shirt. "Can't wait to be inside of you."

Sherlock whimpered quietly, trying to be patient. John wanted slow, love making. It wouldn't due to try and rush his husband. He wrapped his arms around John, fingers sliding up the shirt so he could scratch lightly at the skin. His body squirmed into his husband's, hoping he wasn't being too needy or desperate even though he wanted John _now._

John's head dropped so he could press his face into the side of Sherlock's neck. He moaned, trying to muffle it the best he could. "Fuck," he whispered as he arched his hips up in an effort to start undoing his own trousers. "You aren't making this any easier," he added with a second moan. Now he wanted fast, wanted to pound into his husband and let the whole manor know it.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered. It was hard to be still with John on top of him like this, especially since they hadn't shagged in almost a week. He managed to get his body under control, the fingers on his husband's back even stopping in place. Not doing anything had always been difficult for him, but John needed this. He needed to do whatever it took, to regain his husband's trust.

John paused and took a deep breath, lifting his head to look Sherlock in the eye. "You are fine, dear. You're fine. I was joking. Touch me. Wiggle. _Everything_." He gave Sherlock a slow, gentle kiss and rolled his hips into his husband tightly, moaning into his husband's mouth. "Want you," he muttered as he finished taking his pants and underwear off before tightly pressing their bodies together.

Sherlock smiled, relieved. Staying still always made him tense but now his body was relaxed. He resumed scratching John's back lightly and squirming into his husband. "Can't wait for you to be inside me." There talking, just like John wanted. God, he couldn't wait for his husband to enter. Just the thought made him whimper in anticipation.

There was no way he was going to keep this up. John bit his bottom lip and reached for the Vaseline. "Love you. Sherlock, love you." He popped it opened and coated his fingers, quickly moving to start preparing his husband. "Right here. On the couch. God, anybody could walk in." He slicked his cock before slowly entering Sherlock.

Sherlock bit down on his lip to prevent him from moaning loudly when he felt John preparing him. God it already felt so wonderful. He looked up at his husband with a smirk. "That's what makes it so exciting." His teeth sunk deeper into his bottom lip to muffle another moan, ignoring the metallic taste that was in his mouth. John was inside of him and right now that was the only thing that mattered.

Jesus. John pressed his face against the side of Sherlock's neck with a groan. How in the world could they have not had sex this long? His hips started a slow, smooth rhythm and wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock's body, grunting softly into his husband's neck with each thrust. "Yes. God, yes." He let a louder than necessary moan slip from his lips.

"You feel so amazing." If he was busy whispering things to John, then he was less likely to make so much noise. Although, his husband was making more than enough noise for them both. Sherlock smirked up at John. Maybe if people heard them, then they would just avoid this general area. He moved in time with his husband, letting John set the pace.

"Mmph..." John let his mouth open slightly as he started panting for breath. He couldn't talk, there was too much going on and he couldn't focus. "Ahhh, fu-fuck." His hips snapped forward in several quick, rough thrusts. There was no way he could stop. If somebody walked in he would keep going, would let everybody know. He finally closed his mouth, lightly clamping on to Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock turned his head to growl into the arm of the couch, it would also give his husband more access to his neck. Faster thrusts _and_ biting, God it was all so wonderful. He continued to match the pace that John wanted. He bit into the couch, muffled panting, moaning, and whimpering noises coming from his mouth.

Somebody had to have heard them by now, had to know what was actually going on. At least everybody in the house was being polite. John continued to gasp and moan into his husband's neck, one arm moving from around Sherlock to clutch desperately at the couch cushion beneath them. Then John remembered that it would probably be polite to get Sherlock off and moved his other hand between them, grasping his husband's erection and stroking it with tight, fast movements.

Sherlock arched into the touch of John's hand, head lifting off the arm of the couch with a loud moan. Well, if they hadn't heard them before they certainly had now. He continued to move in time with his husband's movements. Shagging would never get old, he figured. It always felt so amazing each time. "John..." He moaned out lowly, unable to form any other words at the moment.

John snorted slightly, pulling his mouth away from Sherlock's neck to look between them. His hand kept moving quickly as his thrusts got faster, his body tense as he tried to focus the best he could. And then his name, said in a moan...it was the end of him. John arched his back sharply as he came, not able to stop himself from collapsing under his husband as he stopped all movement for a moment. "Jesus...ah, God..." He tilted slightly to the side and started moving his hand again, lazy and slowly.

Sherlock smirked a bit, one hand moving up to run through John's hair when his husband collapsed upon him. Even though the movements of John's hand had slowed, he came shortly after his husband, moaning out John's name once more. It hadn't taken much really to get him off, considering how many times he had been left sexually frustrated the last couple of days.

Good. Now John could focus on relaxing. He smeared his hand across his stomach, avoiding the couch the best he could, and relaxing against Sherlock with a small sigh. That had been... "Wow," he whispered as his eyes fluttered shut and he yawned. "Love you. That...yeah. I love you." He nodded and decided to stop talking before he made a fool of himself. His thoughts were going too fast for him to think about anything other than letting his eyes close.

The smirk on his face returned. "Damn right." Sherlock only smirked some more, his arms wrapping a bit tighter at John to hold his husband closer still. "Don't worry about the couch Love, my brother and the Detective Inspector soiled it before we ever got to it." He tilted his head down and kissed the top of John's head. "I love you," he said into his husband's hair and gave it another kiss. He left his chin atop of John's head, quite enjoying the closeness right now.

For a moment John wanted to jump off the couch and demand a warm shower to rid himself of the germs but he was too tired to do anything but snort softly. "Love you too," he whispered with a smile. That had certainly helped their relationship a bit. The closeness and intimacy they both craved was being acquired. "You are a surprisingly comfortable pillow."

"Well, I have put on a little bit of weight in the last couple of years. Not all skin and bones now." Sherlock smirked a bit, fingers running through John's hair. It was something he always enjoyed doing. It was a relaxing and soothing for him. "I love you," he repeated. They should probably get dressed at least but he just didn't want to move from this spot yet.

"You? Put on weight?" John snorted a bit at that and shook his head. "Impossible." To add emphasis to his words he reached a hand between them, ignoring the mess and running his fingers lightly across his husband's stomach. "See. Still oddly skinny." He lifted his head and grinned like an idiot. "Still my too skinny husband."

"It was only a few kilograms, hardly noticeable really. Since I notice everything…" Sherlock trailed off with a shrug. "I do eat more though, when I am not distracted by a case anyway." He shrugged again. "We should probably get dressed soon. I am sure Mycroft will be along at some point to tell us how inappropriate our behavior was." He smirked into John's hair, still not wanting to move from his spot despite his own warning.

"Mmm, maybe," John muttered into his husband's chest. None of that sounded particularly appealing to him at the moment. "Would rather lay here with you." His hand started tracing light shapes on Sherlock's side, his head turning to place gentle kisses down the scar on the center of the man's chest. "They certainly heard us," he whispered, "They should know we are probably still indecent."

Sherlock closed his eyes from the kisses. If he hadn't just gotten off, then he was certain he would be turned on by it. "Fine, but if one of the children happen upon us you get to explain what is going on." He smirked, the grip around John tightening. Not even getting walked in by the kids was enough to motivate him from his place on the couch with his husband. It was all too perfect and comfortable.

"Fine," John replied with a laugh, lifting his head to study Sherlock. "That's all ri-"

"Oh, God, really?" Lestrade turned around right away, head down and a hand on his forehead. "There is bedrooms for that. With _beds_. Where people don't bloody _sit_ all the time!" It was clear he was blushing, the back of his neck a deep shade of red. Hell, he shouldn't be talking. He and Mycroft had certainly used that couch. "Sherlock...John, please get dressed or...or something. Jesus."

John giggled and pressed his face into his husband's arm, pressing tighter against the man beneath him.

"There are several stains on the couch already and they certainly weren't from us. You could just turn the cushions over to make it less obvious you know." Sherlock turned his head to smirk at Lestrade, even though the Detective Inspector wasn't looking at them. "What if we want to stay here the rest of the day like this? I am sure you can find a way to keep the children entertained and away." Now he was just being stubborn and well, spending the rest of the day in his husband's arms seemed like a fantastic idea.

"Oi! We clean up our mess," Lestrade shot back weakly. Lie. Very obviously a lie. "Just...I am not taking care of your kids because you two want to lay naked on the couch. Get dressed, you gits." He headed away from the living room grumbling to himself.

"You're perfect," John whispered as he reached around on the floor, finding his underwear and shifting to slip them on. "Thomas might come in at any minute. Don't want him asking about your dick." He paused and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on his husband's penis with a laugh. "It is rather perfect, though. Even I am envious."

Sherlock smirked as he watched Lestrade leave. He looked back down at John. "Is it? I guess I have never noticed or compared myself to another one. Do people usually do that? It seems silly to me. Who cares about the size of a dick?" He shrugged the thought off. He still didn't want to get up and he continued to hold onto his husband instead.

"Are you kidding me? The size is...it is important, Sherlock." John glanced down at his pants and blushed. He was short so was naturally a bit smaller than most men but that didn't seem to bother his husband at all. "Bigger than mine," he grumbled childishly as he met his partner's gaze. "But...I mean, you haven't really minded. Ever." That made him proud, he guessed.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "I guess." Size had never really mattered to him and honestly had never even noticed until John had brought it to his attention. Was this going to start a fight? His husband seemed upset now. He felt like he should be apologizing for something but he wasn't entirely sure for what.

John smirked and laughed. "You are fine, Sherlock. It isn't like you can control it," he whispered and reached a hand out to tangle their fingers together for a moment. "You are fine. Just know...I am a bit jealous of your dick and I always will be." He winked and stood up, wobbling slightly as he grabbed his husband's pants and tossed them toward the couch.

Sherlock frowned but nodded, even though he wasn't really sure why John was jealous to begin with. It was just one of those things he would never understand about people or relationships he supposed. He sat up on the couch and put on his pants that had landed in his lap. He reached down and grabbed his troursers and slid those back on as well.

"That was...good," John whispered with a smile, standing in the middle of the living room with his trousers half up his legs. "I think we needed that, as stupid as it sounds. But I think...that is exactly what we needed." He moved forward and bent at the waist, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. "I love you, I always will. You are my anchor." Now maybe they could move on with their life and forget everything.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. "I love you too." He hoped John was right. Maybe things could go back to normal for them. Not too normal, because he was tired of things happening to them constantly. He just wanted to be with his husband, his family and not worry about something coming along to disrupt their life too much. Would John end up leaving tonight then? Or would his husband and the children stay the night? If they did, maybe they could shag again? Was it too soon to ask?

John looked around the living room for a moment before finding a clock. It would be pointless to go back to the flat this late. It was nearly dinner time, Amy would be up soon. "I am going to stay here tonight." He turned to look at Sherlock and smiled warmly. "Sleep in the same bed and all that. The media can go wank themselves." He moved to the couch, straddling his husband and kissing him again.

"Yes, very good Love." Sherlock returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around John. He was happy to hear that. He decided to tell his husband. "I am glad you are staying." He resumed the kiss and when it was needed, began exhaling through his nose. "I love you," he murmured behind the kiss. Yes, John was right. Things were going back to the way they were supposed to be.

John took several breaths through his nose before slowly pulling away, gently pushing Sherlock against the back of the couch with a wry grin. "I know you do," he stated as his lips twisted into a cocky smile. "I love you, too." He lifted a hand, running it through his husband's hair and studying his face. "Thank you," he whispered, his face suddenly serious. "Thank you for...for marrying me, for giving me a family...for everything."

The feeling of John's hand in his hair always felt nice and his eyes closed in contentment. Sherlock opened them again to look at his husband. "I am glad we got married, even if you did domesticate me John Watson." It was still a bit weird to think about. Before John, he never thought he would be at this point in his life. Married…with a family.

"Oi, half of that domesticating was you," John whispered with a grin. Probably a lie. John had demanded so much of Sherlock, had requested that he become more normal. It made him a bit sick to his stomach. "But you are still you, Sherlock. You really are. And I am so bloody lucky to have you right here with me." Another slow kiss to calm himself down, to assure himself that everything between them was fine.

"I don't mind it, you know. Being domesticated that is," Sherlock admitted. He returned the kiss readily, letting John control it. Shit, at this rate he was going to get another erection. Was he just being selfish for wanting to shag his husband again? Tonight. When the children were sleeping he would see if John was up to it.

John slowly pulled away from the kiss, smiling a bit. "I know you don't. Hell, you made me tea this morning without me saying a word. How polite of you, dear." He chuckled and pressed their foreheads together. "You are fantastic. You really are. Who would have thought? They great Sherlock Holmes...a husband and father. And yet here we are." He bit his bottom lip and blushed. God, he was being so emotional right now, wasn't he?

"I was the last person to think so, I am sure." Sherlock smirked a bit at his husband. "I like sharing moments like these with you. Close. Just talking. Enjoying each other's company." He wrapped his arms around John a little tighter.

Thomas walked in and cleared his throat. "It is almost dinner time. Uncle Mycroft said to fetch you two, before you shagged on the couch again." The boy blushed and looked at the floor. "His words...not mine..." He left the room before he got too embarrassed.

John glanced back at Thomas before he blushed, burying his face into his husband's shoulder. "Jesus, you're brother is a git," he muttered as he slid off of Sherlock and moved to his feet. "I am going to go get our daughter. I will see you in the dining room." He took several stops back, smiled, and turned around to head up stairs.

Sherlock smirked a bit as he stood up from the couch. He walked to the dining room and arched a brow at Mycroft. "You told our son we were," he paused when he noticed Lestrade had Siger. "...you know..." He trailed off, glaring at his brother as he took his seat.

Thomas frowned as he sat down next to his Daddy. "Please don't fight. Can't we have a family dinner without arguing? Just once? _Please_?" He looked from Sherlock to Uncle Mycroft pleadingly. "I hate when you guys fight," he whispered more to himself as he dropped his gaze to the table.

Mycroft smirked a bit, looking down at Thomas for a moment. "We will not be fighting, my dear Thomas. Of course not." He smiled warmly and started putting some food on his face. Pasta, a simple meal that they all certainly enjoyed. "Besides, Sherlock..." He looked up momentarily. "Everybody heard you two."

Lestrade bounced Siger on his knee, the little boy grinned eagerly as he put several pieces of cereal in his mouth to chew them.

"Right then, little girl." John sat down next to his husband and then froze, looking around the table. Well...something had definitely happened and he had missed it. "Hello all." He smiled a bit and kept Amy in his lap, separating his plate into two different sides, one for Amy that had fruit all over it and another with his pasta. "Here we go, Amy," he whispered as he handed her a slice of apple.

"Papa, hi's!" Amy said as she took a bite of her apple slice.

Sherlock glared at Mycroft but bit his tongue. He couldn't help but wonder if Thomas would ever grow out being so...sensitive about everything. He turned to little Sandi and smiled. "Hey Baby Girl." He put a little bit of food on his plate, even though he wasn't terribly hungry.

Thomas frowned, watching everyone at the table for a moment before helping himself to food. Why wasn't Grandma at the table? Did anyone else notice she was missing besides him? Should he say something? It took forever for him to get noticed when Daddy went missing.

John looked around the table before noticing that Nancy was missing. Thomas was looking around and he had noticed, too. "Amy, honey, move to Papa's lap," he whispered. She did as told and John stood, looking at their son for a long moment. "C'mon mate." He offered his hand to the boy and wiggled his fingers. "Let's go find Grandma." He smiled warmly.

Mycroft was focused on his little family, skillfully eating with one hand as Siger kept a strong grip on the other. Lestrade kept the young boy in his lap as he ate.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he watched John take Thomas out of the dining room. He moved his plate out of the way and pulled John's plate over so he could feed their daughter. He picked up a strawberry cut in half and offered it to little Sandi.

Thomas followed after his Dad. "She is probably in her room." He let go of John's room and ran into the room. "Grandma!" He dropped to his knees beside her on the floor.

Nancy was on the floor, unconscious. At her age, with no other health problems, it was probably a stroke or possibly a heart attack.

Shit. _Shit_. John dropped to his knees instantly, not bothering to try and push Thomas away. Check for pulse. He paused and felt his entire body tense. No pulse. "Sherlock! Call nine-nine-nine!" God, he hoped his voice carried. He started CPR right away, pausing every ten to open Nancy's mouth and breathe into it. "Not now. C'mon, not now. Nancy," he begged to himself as he continued the CPR and mouth to mouth.

Mycroft jumped from his chair, looking at Sherlock with wide eyes before darting out of the dining room.

Sherlock couldn't move as quickly as Mycroft had, with little Sandi in his hands. Lestrade already had Siger to worry about. Staying on the sidelines wasn't something he liked doing, but if it was bad enough to call emergency services he didn't want his daughter to see it.

Thomas came in and took his sister from his Daddy. "You should be in there with Dad and Uncle Mycroft. They are in Grandma's room. Uncle Mycroft already called on his mobile." He smiled but it didn't meet his eyes.

Sherlock patted his son on the head gratefully and walked upstairs to his mother's room. Oh God. No. It was already crowded so he stood to the side of the door.

It took a few compressions but Nancy came back. She was disoriented and confused.

There. Alive. John felt Nancy breathing. "Back up!" He looked up at Mycroft who stepped back almost instantly to stand beside his brother. "Nancy, don't move," his voice was lowered instantly as he gently put a hand on the side of her face. "I don't want you to move at all, all right? Help is on the way." He smiled weakly and shifted slightly on his knees.

Amy squeaked slightly and looked up at Thomas. "'Mas, hi," she said with a smile. Lestrade stood slowly, kept Siger in his arms, and went to stand beside Thomas.

It wasn't long before the door opened, emergency workers coming in the door and rushing up the stairs. The moved into Nancy's room, pulling John out of the way despite his protests and getting the woman ready for the hospital. They moved her from the room and John stood helplessly, watching them leave.

Sherlock stood by helplessly and he followed after the gurney his mother was on. "I am going with her," he said to whoever was listening. He climbed into the back of the ambulance, ignoring whatever was being said to him.

Thomas was getting uncomfortable. "Let's go outside and play Sis." He carried Amy outside to the garden, to get away from all the adult activity. He was upset but he couldn't let his sister know.

Nancy looked around, still not sure what was going on. There was a bag over her mouth, so she couldn't ask questions. She was trying to remember what had happened, but her recollection was fuzzy.

John watched his husband leave, blinking several times when he realized Mycroft had left the room as well. Right. So, downstairs. They had kids. He moved down the stairs and looked around for a long moment.

"Garden," Lestrade said softly with a weak smile. "I...we should probably go, too." Siger shifted in Lestrade's arms and looked at John.

"I...uh, yeah. Right." John nodded and moved toward the garden, watching his two kids with a bit of a smile. "Oi, look at you two."

Amy looked back at John before wrapping one of her hands in Thomas's hair. "Dada! Look it! 'Mas." She grinned and wiggled out of his arms and picked a flower, eagerly handing it over to her other brother.

"That's lovely," John said with a smile as he looked at Thomas. "Do you want to go back inside now? We are going on a trip." Except Thomas knew, the kid was smart, and he was worried their son would say that he didn't want to go.


	19. Chapter 19

Thomas took the flower with a half smile. He turned to look up at his Dad. He nodded slowly. Was Grandma okay? Should he say something in front of Amy?

"C'mon." John bent down to pick Amy up, easily settling her into one arm as he offered his other arm to Thomas. His baby girl was too busy babbling on about the flowers to really pay attention to him. "She is fine," he whispered to their son. "She is awake and they took her to a very, _very_ good hospital." He squeezed Thomas' hand and led him back into the house. Once Lestrade and Siger were ready they all loaded into a black car and were taken straight to the hospital.

"Flowers in here?" Amy asked as they walked in, looking around eagerly. "Flowers," she muttered.

Sherlock just went through the motions numbly. The ambulance ride didn't even register for him really. He slumped into a waiting room chair when he wasn't allowed access to the room his mother was taken too.

"Oh, Sherlock." John set Amy down as she moved toward Mycroft, who easily picked her up. "Sherlock," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around his husband the best he could. "It is going to be fine," he muttered.

Sherlock looked up at John and gave a slight nod. When had his husband gotten here? How long had he been at the hospital? He leaned into John's shoulder heavily, relying on his husband for support and comfort he knew his partner would be able to give him.

Thomas looked around at the adults and followed signs to some vending machines. He put in some coins and got a chocolate bar. He probably should have asked but dinner had been interrupted and he was still hungry.

There. Sherlock just leaning against him was comforting enough. At least he was still responding to talking, still willing to accept soft touches and words of encouragement. "I am right here. I'm not leaving. She's going to be fine." He crouched slightly to be closer to his husband and be a better means of support.

Amy crawled out of Mycroft's grip the moment she saw Thomas walk away, eagerly following him. "'Mas," she whispered with a smile, reaching a hand out to take his. "'Mas, I wants to stay with you. Dun leaves me," she muttered as she looked around the hallway. "Dun leaves me."

Sherlock wanted to believe John's words. He stayed leaned into his husband until he heard a doctor say his last name. He looked up, standing slowly. He took John's hand without even realizing it and held onto it tightly.

"Your mother suffered a transient ischemic attack. It is basically a mini stroke. She is fine now and we will be able to release her before the day is over." The doctor smiled at the two brothers reassuringly.

"What? Releasing her today? She was unconscious for God knows how long!" Sherlock couldn't help but yell. He was more stressed out then he realized and his grip in John's hand got tighter still.

Thomas turned to see Amy. "Sis, you shouldn't wander away from the adults like that. You are still too young." He took her hand gently, a partially eaten chocolate bar in the other. He could hear yelling back from where he came. Daddy. He wanted to go see what was going on but maybe he should keep his sister away from the adults right now.

John winced and instantly squeezed Sherlock's hand, looking up at his husband. "Sherlock," he said softly as he smiled back at the doctor. "I think it might be best if you at least kept her over night. I mean, not to overstep any boundaries, Sir, but we don't know how long she was upstairs." The last thing he wanted was Sherlock to be upset and yelling, especially in such a public place.

Amy looked up at Thomas and bit her bottom lip. "I...but you's wandered off," she whispered with a guilt look very much like John's. "Wants to be with you, 'Mas. You's not yell," she added softly. Her hand squeezed her brother's and she shifted on her feet. "Sorry."

"She is stable now and we are keeping her a few hours for observation. TIA's usually only last an hour or two. In extreme cases twenty-four hours. This is not an extreme case," the doctor said, keeping his tone calm and genially.

Sherlock didn't like it at all. "Fine," he muttered. He would just spend his night watching over his mother, to make sure nothing happened. He glared at Mycroft. His brother hadn't even said a damn thing in their Mum's defense. He sat back down in a childish huff.

Thomas smiled. "You are fine Sissy-Poo." He hated that nickname. He always felt like such a baby when using it, but it usually made Amy feel better and no one was around to hear it. "Here, you can have the rest of my chocolate bar, okay?" He led them back to the adults slowly and even though he was young he could feel the tension in the air. Why were adults always so angry all the time? Maybe they wouldn't notice they had both eaten candy without permission.

Amy finished the candy bar with a happy grin, taking a side step closer to her brother. The tension in the air didn't seemed to be noticed by her at all. "'Mas, can we sits together? Don't wanna sits by myself." She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him with wide eyes.

John lifted a hand and rested it on his husband's cheek. "Sherlock," he said softly, trying to not sound like he was chastising the man at all. "Deep breaths," he whispered as he knelt down and gave his husband a quick kiss. "Stay calm. We have got to stay strong for your Mum."

Mycroft shifted in his chair and stood up slowly, glancing at Lestrade and Siger as their little son made a small noise. He couldn't do this right now. It was all too much. He moved out of the lobby down the same hall that Thomas had gotten the candy bar from.

Of course the adults didn't notice them. They were just kids. Who cared about them in important adult issues? He led Amy over to chairs away from the adults but still in view of their parents. He picked his sister up and set her on his lap. "Silly girl, you got chocolate all over you," he whispered and used his sleeve to help wipe it off.

Sherlock nodded, once more relying on John for support and comfort. "I am going to stay with my Mum in her room the next few nights. Will that be all right with you?" He tilted his head slightly to one side to look his husband.

Amy giggled and tried to wiggle away from Thomas's sleeve, pushing a hand gently against the boy's stomach. "'Mas! Ahhh, 'Mas!" She laughed again and lifted up her own arm, rubbing her sleeve gently against her brother's cheek with a grin.

John nodded and smiled warmly at Sherlock. "Of course, dear. That is fine." He reached out and grab his husband's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Want to see something that will brighten your day?" He turned Sherlock slowly so he could see Amy and Thomas as they scrubbed at each other's faces.

Thomas smiled and let Amy wipe at his face, even leaning down a bit so she could reach better. He continued to wipe at his sister's, oblivious to their parents staring at them.

Sherlock nodded and he managed a small smile as he looked at their children. He saw the traces of chocolate but it wouldn't do to get upset about it in a time like this. They were probably just hungry anyway, since dinner had been interrupted.

"Silly! 'Mas, you's silly!" Amy shifted on his lap and moved her other hand to rub at the boy's other cheek. "Gonna gets you all clean," she muttered with a determined face, her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth in true focus.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's lower back and leaned into his husband with a smile. "See. Look at that. They're...they're perfect. And we did that. Me and you." He looked up at his husband warmly and stood placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "I love you."

"Not unless I get you clean first!" Thomas laughed, and kept running his sleeved hand over Amy's face.

Sherlock smiled a bit bigger. "Thomas is a good older brother. I am glad we decided to adopt him." He rested his head against John's shoulder once more. "I love you too." Were visitor's going to be allowed in his mother's room soon? The children at least made a good distraction.

Amy narrowed her eyes in determination, giggling loudly before she collapsed against Thomas's chest. "Wins. You wins," she muttered weakly as she took deep breaths. "I wants to be as strong as you," she whispered into his shirt with a yawn.

"I'm glad he warmed up to you as fast as he did," John added with a soft smile, his hand moving to rub up and down his husband's back ."I don't know where he would be without you, Sherlock. You have changed that boy's life." He closed his eyes to try and get his emotions in check. He needed to stay strong from Sherlock and support him.

Thomas smirked a bit. "Someday you will be. Give it a few years and you will get there." He dropped his arm, to wrap around his sister and began rocking her. He had noticed the yawn and maybe he could get Amy to sleep.

Sherlock gave a slight shrug, in a moment of rare modesty. "I suppose so." A pause as he closed his eyes. "I worry about him John." What if because of him he brought disaster to his family? All he wanted to do was keep them all safe.

Amy snuggled into the warmth, relaxing further at the feel of Thomas' arm around her. "No. I won't ever be as strong as you, 'Mas," she said slowly, clearly tired. "You're big and strong. I'm just me." She looked up at him before her eyes slipped shut and she finally fell asleep.

That drew John's attention and he looked at his husband. Worried? What in the world could they possibly be worried about with Thomas? Sure, the fights. They were a little scary and that was the last thing he ever wanted for his son but the boy was perfect in almost every other way. "Why? I...I don't think anything is wrong."

Thomas held onto Amy, as he fell asleep holding also.

Sherlock shook his head a bit. "Thomas is fine. I am worried about the people after him. They haven't made a move at all, that I know of anyway. Whoever it is, is patient. I don't know. Maybe I am just worrying for no reason." He shouldn't have said anything, should he? Now John would probably start worrying as well.

Oh. John glanced back at their kids, asleep and blissfully unaware of everything around them. "I forgot about that," he admitted with a small twitch of his lips. "I...Maybe they forgot? Maybe they know it doesn't matter anymore, yeah? They think it's useless?" He looked up at Sherlock hopefully before a nurse caught his attention.

"Holmes?" The older man asked softly, studying the couple with a smile. "Mr. Holmes, Sir, your mother can be seen now." He motioned his head down the hall.

"See, look," John whispered into Sherlock's neck. "Already getting better."

"Stay with the kids?" Sherlock asked as he stood slowly. He followed after the nurse, sent a text to Mycroft just in case and put his mobile back in his pocket. His mother wasn't awake when he entered, she was probably under sedation to help keep her calm and rested. He sighed and sat down in a chair next to her. She looked so pale and fragile laying there. It was strange to see her like that. His mother had always been someone who he saw as strong and proud.

Mycroft entered the room slowly, leaning against the far wall weakly. He couldn't bring himself to move any closer. It was too much. Between Dad and his job and the stresses of a family...God, he was crumbling. "Is she all right?" He asked softly, glancing toward his younger brother with a tired gaze. "I mean...she is good?" He added before his eyes closed in frustration.

Even stranger still was seeing his older brother looking so…defeated. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and then a small nod. "Yeah, I think so. She is just in a sedated sleep right now. If the doctor's think she will be well enough to go by the end of the night then…" He trailed off with a shrug. He didn't like the idea of his mother being discharged from the hospital so quickly. "Do you think it is my fault? That I stressed her out because of my drug use?" Mycroft was usually the first one to cast blame on him.

Mycroft shook his head instantly. "No. Everything at the house has been stressful, Sherlock. Married couples fight and she hates it when Gregory and I get into arguments. Siger is growing up and the three year anniversary of Dad...she's just had a bad couple of weeks, I think. Getting older." He frowned at that. The thought of both of his parents being gone, of he and Sherlock not having anybody else...it shook him to the core. "I am talking to the hospital staff. She is not leaving tonight."

Right. Sherlock had forgotten about their father dying almost three years ago. Mum visited the grave frequently, but always spent extra time there on the anniversary of his father's death. "Good, she shouldn't be leaving." How much longer did they have with their mother? What if next time it was full stroke? A heart attack maybe? She wasn't getting any younger.

Mycroft shifted slightly and then pushed off of the wall, moving slowly toward the bed. "Sherlock, we almost lost her," he whispered as he reached out and gently picked up Nancy's hand, holding it between two of his own. "We...God, she could have died. What if John didn't find her?" His voice cracked, it was weak and broken and now he was experiencing too many emotions. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control.

Here Sherlock thought he was having a hard time dealing with this. Mycroft seemed to be struggling more than he was. "We can't worry about the 'what ifs' right now. Mum is going to need us be strong for her. She doesn't like to show it, but she worries about us. What good to her are we, if she is worrying about us and not concentrating on getting better?"

Mycroft's eyes shot up, narrowing dangerously as he studied Sherlock. "She is asleep right now, Sherlock, and I'm allowed to worry as much as I want," he growled as he gently squeezed their mother's hand. That was all he needed, really. Sherlock to piss him off so he could go ahead and get agitated, keep his head up. "I'm not you, I actually enjoy the company of our parents."

Sherlock frowned at Mycroft's words. Their mother was sleeping. He didn't want to start a fight and risk waking her. He sighed, shifting in the chair for the sake of doing something. Tense, awkward silence it was then. He glanced over her vitals displayed on the equipment briefly before finding the floor rather interesting to look at.

"I'm...sorry. That was not necessary." Mycroft watched Sherlock for a long moment, looking down at the floor himself. "I shouldn't have said that. You care about Mum so much. You do. And...God, Sherlock, she loves you." More than she loved Mycroft. For him it was all about keeping Sherlock safe, keeping him out of trouble. Sherlock was Mum's central focus. "She loves you, Sherlock."

Sherlock shrugged off the apology. "Mum loves you too." He figured the only reason his mother had ever showered him with more attention than Mycroft was because of how his father had treated him growing up. However, that wasn't a theory he ever intended on sharing with anyone. Not even John.

"Well of course she does," Mycroft smiled a bit and looked back down at Nancy. "She loves us both but you..." His smile softened a bit. "I remember when they brought you home and Mum would sit in the tea room with you for hours on end just...staring. She was enamored with you. Couldn't put you down." He looked up at Sherlock. "And you didn't mind it. You hardly cried, you would just stare right back."

Sherlock shifted in his chair again, uncomfortable once more. He wanted to make a bitter retort but he held his tongue instead. Cigarette. Maybe that would take the edge off his nerves. Would John get upset if he smoked? It had been a few years since his last nicotine fix. It was better than turning to a more destructive alternative though.

"Yes. I...apologize. Bit too emotional..." Mycroft cleared his throat and looked at the ground. "Would you like me to leave, Sherlock?" He lifted his gaze again, completely serious and polite. If Sherlock wanted to be alone for a while, wanted to spend time with Nancy, then he would respect his younger brother's wishes. "Unless you want me here. I just...I'm worried about making you happy."

"You are fine," Sherlock muttered as he stood up from the chair. "I am going to step out for a smoke, I think." It shouldn't be too difficult to find someone who smoked. "It will help a bit with the withdrawal jitters. I am trying not to think about it but…" He trailed off with a shrug. They were in a hospital where he could nick morphine from a medical supply cabinet. No. He wouldn't. Couldn't. Maybe he would smoke more than just one cigarette.

Smoke? Mycroft tensed and studied Sherlock for a long moment. "John-" Should he tell his younger brother? "John has a pack. I am sure he will share." He smiled tightly and let his gaze fall to the floor. "Don't let him know I told you. I...don't want him to know or...just go." He chuckled and moved around the bed to sit in the chair and hold Nancy's hand.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He thought John only smoked when in a war zone. Had he stressed his own husband out? He sighed at his thoughts as he left the room. He walked out to the waiting room to look for John. The children were still sleeping. Good. He looked over at Lestrade. "You should go back there. I think your husband might need you right now." He gave a faint smirk before glancing over at John. "Rumor has it, you have some smokes."

Lestrade looked up and nodded, lifting Siger who stayed asleep against his father's chest before heading back toward the room.

John's head shot up, eyes wide before a small smirk tugged at his lips. "The git. He said he wouldn't tell," he muttered as he stood up. There was no way he would be able to leave with Sherlock to smoke, not with Thomas and Amy still in the waiting room. "I do. It will cost you, though," he said softly as he approached his husband. "How many do you want?"

Sherlock smirked at John with a shrug. "I thought you only smoked out on the battlefield, Love." It wasn't casting judgment by any means. He was just curious and worried about his husband. "Is everything all right?" He wrapped his arms around John once they were close enough together. He pressed their foreheads together and gave a quick kiss on his husband's nose. Smoking could wait. John was more important.

Did John tell his husband that the past week and a half had felt like the battlefield? Like he had been fighting for his life? Because he had been. Losing Sherlock would have destroyed his life, it would have been war. "I...feel like I have been on the battlefield," he whispered hoarsely. That had been tough to say. God, he felt horrible. "I thought I was going to lose you, Sherlock and I felt like I was fighting for my life."

"I'm sorry." This was his fault. He had torn John down. Sherlock lifted his head fractionally and tilted it down so he could kiss his husband on the lips. It was slow and gentle. A hand moved to caress the back of John's head, fingers trailing through the hair lightly. "I love you," he murmured behind the kiss.

"Fine, it's fine," John whispered against his husband's lips. And it was. It always was. "Not you. Life, it's life," he added before he wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock and pulled him closer. They were in the middle of the waiting room but he couldn't help it. God, he wanted Sherlock to know it was all fine. "I love you, too." After a moment to take a breath he pressed their mouths together eagerly, his tongue running across Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock returned the eager kiss, the arms around John tightening in an attempt to pull their bodies even closer together. He loved being close to his husband. He didn't care they were in the middle of a waiting room of a hospital where anyone could see them. This was much more calming than any cigarette could ever offer him.

After several moments John pulled away, taking several deep breaths and smiling warmly. "That was...very good," he whispered softly. Kissing Sherlock had calmed him down, pulled his thoughts away from everything going on. "I love you and if we weren't in a hospital I would demand that we shag." He smirked and buried his face into his husband's chest.

"My dear doctor, we shag in hospitals all the time." Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "We probably shouldn't leave the children though. I am actually okay now, thank you Love. You are much more effective than cigarettes could ever be." He kissed John's nose again. "I love you," he repeated.

That was a true enough statement. John snorted slightly and glanced over his husband's shoulder. Thomas and Amy were still both asleep. "I love you, too," he whispered into Sherlock's neck, pressing several kisses against the skin. "I'm sorry about your Mum, all right? I am so sorry and I did my best. I really did. Please don't hate me." He pulled away to lock his gaze intently on his husband.

Sherlock closed his eyes from the kisses on his neck. He opened them, eyebrows raised as he looked back at John. "I don't hate you. Nothing that happened is your fault. You saved her life. She is fine now. The hospital is even going to keep her overnight." He pressed their foreheads together again. "Thank you for keeping my Mum alive. She might not have made it if you hadn't found her. What made you go looking, anyway?"

"Thomas," John replied with a lopsided smile. "He looked worried and I noticed so we went to find her." He shrugged and lowered his head. He didn't do anything special, didn't really make a difference. "I just...God, I got scared. I imagine that's...that's what Harry went through when she found Mum while I was in Iraq." His face went pale at the thought and he closed his eyes. "It was like I was looking at my own Mum because that is what Nancy is to me."

"He is going to make a good Detective Inspector. He has good instincts." Not something he usually relied on. Science and facts had never failed him. Sherlock frowned a bit. "You did amazing Love. Even though you were scared, you acted immediately. You didn't let the fear stop you from helping my mother."

"He does. He could do so much, really," John whispered with a small chuckle. He needed to stay happy, to force himself to stay happy and positive. "Sherlock...if you are staying here tonight I am going to take the kids back to the flat? Is that all right?" God, he was so scared of just going back to the flat, leaving Sherlock alone. "Please just...please don't do anything. I'll give you-" He reached into his pocket and grabbed his cigarettes. "Here. These. You can smoke these."

Sherlock nodded understandingly and took the pack of cigarette. "Thank you. You always save me, even before I am falling." He smiled and kissed John's nose again. He couldn't leave his mother right now, but the children shouldn't have to stay here either. "I will be fine. I promise not to do anything stupid."

"Stop seducing me with your words," John muttered with a blush, pressing his growing erection against Sherlock's hips for emphasis. "Go be with your Mum. Text me. Anything. I will have my phone on me all night." There was no way he would be able to sleep, he knew that much. An empty bed was something he constantly struggled with and without Sherlock's warmth, his smile...John couldn't sleep there.

Sherlock muffled a whimper through tightly pressed lips. He grabbed John by the shirt, pulling his husband to him as he leaned down to whisper into his partner's ear. "I will do more than just seduce you over the phone later tonight." He licked John's ear before he let go of his husband and pulled away slowly.

John looked up at his husband with wide eyes, swallowing hard to try and keep himself calm. Jesus, that shouldn't have been so hot. "I...yeah..." He cleared his throat before licking his lips. "Right." A large blush spread across his cheeks and he dropped his gaze straight to Sherlock's feet. "I love you. Can't wait to hear from you." He stood on his toes and gave his husband a gentle kiss.

Sherlock smirked as he kissed the top of John's head. "Little Sandi is asleep but if she won't go down tonight let me know and I will tell her a story." He leaned back down to whisper in his husband's ear. "The I'll tell _you_ a completely different story." Okay, at this point he was just teasing his husband and he really wasn't sure what he was going to say. Hopefully he wouldn't disappoint John.

If Sherlock kept whispering things like that then John wouldn't care that they were in the waiting room of a hospital. He was about ready to jump on his husband and have his way with the man. "You are evil, you know that?" He grinned and reached a hand out to gently tug at the front of Sherlock's shirt. "Going to miss you tonight. Miss your warmth and your...God, you smell so good and I love waking up snuggled against you, face pressed into your side. You smell like expensive shampoo and body soap."

If the children weren't there, Sherlock was certain he would find a supply closet for them. He had to be an adult now. A father. "I will make it up to you soon. We still have to shag against the window you know and I have thought of something...different for it..." He grinned, kissed John on the lips and then left to find his mother's room once more.

John stood in the waiting room for a long moment, clearly confused and curious. He grinned slightly before turning to the kids. Both still asleep, cuddled against one another in blissful ignorance to their surroundings and the problems in their family. He moved to gently pick Amy up, chuckling as she muttered something and turned into his chest. "Thomas," he whispered as he crouched down and put a hundred on the boy's knee. "Time to go home. You can go right back to sleep."

Mycroft had rested his head on the bed, slowly falling asleep as the stress of the day finally caught up with him.

Sherlock closed the door behind him quietly. Lestrade must have taken Siger home. He slumped into the same chair, fingers under his chin. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight or the next few days really. Not until his mother was okay.

Thomas groaned but took his Dad's hand sleepily, following John out to the black car that his Uncle's always seemed to have at the ready.


	20. Chapter 20

John managed to get them all home, taking Amy up to the bedroom and moving Thomas to the couch. There was no way he was going to be able to carry the boy to the bedroom as well. The entire family was asleep aside from him so he settled into his chair. Would texting his husband now be inappropriate? Oh well. He missed Sherlock already.

_Kids are all asleep. Flat is empty. Only you muttering to yourself will make it feel like home. -JW_

Sherlock wasn't surprised when his mobile went off. He had been waiting for it actually. He opened the text and frowned a bit.

_I am sorry. I will be sleeping in the same bed as you in a few days. -SH_

He sent the message, before deciding to send a second one.

_Amy's birthday is tomorrow. Do you still think we should still have it at the manor? -SH_

The flat would be too small for everyone to get together.

John read the first text and shifted slightly in his chair. Sleeping in the same bed. That made him smile and a small shiver ran up his spine.

_We will be doing more than sleeping, that is for sure. -JW_

Too forward? God, his husband was in the hospital at his mother's bedside. He couldn't help himself though. Then he read the second text and smiled. Their little Amy was growing up.

_Manor. Will Nancy be back by then? -JW_

Sherlock smirked as he replied to the first text.

_Damn right we will. -SH_

He looked over at Mycroft and his mother, before replying to the second text.

_I don't know. Mycroft talked the hospital into keeping her over night. They are both sleeping right now. -SH_

No need to worry John and say he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. Although his husband probably already figured that out anyway.

John grinned like an idiot at the first text, eagerly replying as he shifted in his chair. God, he wanted Sherlock to be home.

_Want to wake you up with a kiss and have lazy morning sex with you. -JW_

The second text caught his attention and made his stomach twist in guilt. He was texting his husband about shagging while his mother was in the hospital, right in front if him and suffering.

_I don't know then. She won't be out by next evening? We can bump the party back a few hours. -JW_

Sherlock smirked again as he typed out a reply.

_Slow, lazy sex. Whispering in your ear. Kissing and licking you all over while you squirm below me. -SH_

He had gotten better at this and was far more confident than the first time they had done it. He ignored his growing erection and concentrated on sending the second text.

_Actually, I was thinking of moving it forward. A party would probably be a bit much for her. Don't you think? Children running around screaming after eating cake. -SH_

John closed his eyes for a long moment as he tried to calm his mind down. Jesus. He couldn't wake up to that tomorrow.

_Will whisper your name, press against you and hold you close. Whimper and beg. -JW_

John glanced around the flat. Could he get away with a quick wank? Probably not. Sherlock would notice the change in pace in his replies and would tease him, more than likely.

_Sure. Have a private family on that night. Yeah. -JW_

Short. Choppy. God, he couldn't form any coherent responses now.

Sherlock left his mother's room and found one of those single bathrooms that were fairly big. He called John, as he locked the door. He was curious about something and he had wanted to try it for awhile now. He was fairly sure his husband wouldn't mind, considering they have had tried a variety of different things already.

John smiled when his screen lit up, studying it for a long moment before finally answering it. "Hold on," he whispered with a smile as he stood slowly, glancing at Thomas to make sure the boy was still asleep before moving into their bedroom. He shut and locked the door before chuckling. "What are you doing?" He asked with another laugh, clearly giddy. "God, I miss you so much already."

Sherlock smirked even though John couldn't see it. He felt a bit nervous now. "I want to see if we can get off at the same time," he finally admitted. He sat down on the loo and undid his trousers. It was something he was always curious about, to see if it was possible and the prospect of it possibly happening was something he found very alluring.

John tensed against the door, pulling the phone away to look at it for a second. "Wait...sorry. You want us to try and get off at the same time?" That made him smile. In their entire marriage he was fairly sure they had always climaxed at different times and it was something he was very used to. Leave it to Sherlock, though, to try some sort of experiment in the middle of their sex life. He grinned and nodded moving slowly to the bed as his free hand undid his jeans. "That sounds wonderful," he whispered as he sat down and slide his jeans and boxers to his ankles. "Really wonderful."

For a moment Sherlock had thought that maybe John didn't want to do it. "Are you sure?" If it wasn't something his husband wanted to do, then it wouldn't be nearly as exciting. He didn't want John to be doing this just to humor him. He stroked himself lightly with his free hand, to help keep his erection in place.

John smiled warmly and moved to gently stroke himself, biting his bottom lip with a small moan. "Sure. So sure," he whispered shakily. "God, yes. I want to do this so bad." His voice broke as he forced his hand to stop moving. "Just tell me what to do, Sherlock. You tell me what you want, this is all you." Damn, when had he been so willing to give his husband control, even over the phone?

Good. Oh. Right. This had been his idea. Only Sherlock really hadn't planned much beyond that. He wasn't sure how to get them both off at the same time or if it was even possible. Maybe with a little self control on both their parts it could be done. He should be talking but suddenly he couldn't come with anything. Talking dirty too much might get one of them off too quickly. He was feeling nervous again. What if this didn't work? Would he disappoint John? "Firm but short strokes first. Just like when I am inside of you, making love. Gentle and easy, but still feels amazing." He started the rhythm on himself, his confidence returning.

Just hearing Sherlock's voice made his eyes close. "O-Okay," he muttered as he started short, firm strokes. "Should I stroke my whole dick, Sherlock?" He asked softly, stumbling slightly over his words. He just pictured his husband above him, staring down at him and thrusting into him. Talking. Slow. "S-Sherlock..." He threw his head back and fell back to lay on the bed, his legs dangling off the side of the mattress.

This hadn't seemed so complicated in his head. Just focus. "Not yet, let's start off nice and easy." Sherlock continued to follow his own advice. "If I was there, I would be above you. Talking to you. Telling you wonderful things. Kissing your ears, neck, down to your chest. Running my tongue along your scars gently, as I continue to slide in and out of you slowly." Shit, at this rate his own words might be enough to get him off.

John whimpered and shook with the effort to keep his hand moving in constant movements. "Would wrap my legs around you, press up into you- ah..." He slammed his head back into the mattress and arched his hips up slightly into his hand. "Love when you are slow, inside of me and perfect. God, so p-perfect." How in the world was he supposed to make sure he came at the same time as Sherlock? Talk? Let him know how close he was?

Sherlock smirked at himself, rather proud he was able to work John up with just words. "Gradually work your way up to fast and full strokes. I am excited now, and I begin a fast and hard pace inside of you. I am groaning and moaning your name with each thrust. I begin to scratch and bite you, growling as I do so." The hand on his cock became firmer as his strokes got faster.

Finally. For a moment John wondered how long he could actually keep a slow and steady pace. With a moan of relief he started to move his hand faster, not being able to help his hips raising to meet each stroke. The mattress squeaked loudly with each movement and he could hardly care if Sherlock heard or not. "Sherlock...harder," he moaned before biting his lip and nearly shouting.

"We are almost there now. The thrusts become harder and faster still. I can feel myself getting close. Are you getting there my dear doctor?" Sherlock wasn't sure how much longer he would last really. Maybe a few minutes at the most. From all the sounds on John's end, it sounded like his husband was almost there too.

"Mmph," John replied gently, not able to form any words. God, nodding wasn't going to work. "Ye-ahhhh..." He arched his hips high and finally let out a soft shout. Hopefully one of the kids didn't wake up. "C-Close. Sh-Sh-" Couldn't talk. Words weren't important because his body was getting tense and he knew that feeling. He had to wait for Sherlock, though. He couldn't just ruin his husband's idea.

Sherlock smirked again, even though John wasn't there to see it. Maybe this would work after all. "Going to…" He trailed off moaning John's name a little louder than he probably should have since he was in a hospital. He breathed heavily into the phone, his head leaning against the wall behind the loo. He clumsily found some toilet paper and used it to wipe off his hand.

John came not even two seconds after his husband, panting heavily as he relaxed into their mattress. "Jesus," he whispered shakily as he tried to catch his breath. "Fuck. God, Sherlock...fuck..." He moved his hand, wiping it across the bottom of their blanket without a care. Now all he wanted was to snuggle up to his husband, curling into his side and feel the warmth of his arms.

"John, that was amazing. Thank you." Sherlock decided to just wait a few moments before trying to stand up and go anywhere. He closed his eyes, relaxing a little further into the wall. It was a bit uncomfortable but he didn't care right now. "You always entertain my crazy ideas. Thank you for that. I love you."

"Of course," John replied, still a bit breathless. "Of course...anything for you, Sherlock." His voice was steady now and it was clear he was serious about what he was saying. "You are my husband and I always want to make you happy." After that he held the phone a little tighter, his eyes opening slightly. Right. He was alone and Sherlock was in the hospital because Nancy was there. "It is selfish...but I want you here. I want to be curled against your side."

Sherlock finally leaned up off the wall and stood slowly. He threw the paper into loo and flushed it. "I wish I could be there with you too. Even if my Mum wasn't in the hospital, I would be at the manor because of the damn media. Mycroft thinks if I just stay away from the flat awhile this bullshit story will go away." He narrowed his eyes at the thought of the new frenzy about their life being made public. He left the bathroom and went outside to smoke a cigarette.

"Just ignore it," John muttered as he sat up and looked around the room. "It is going to blow over and soon the royal family will be in the news for something." He gently stepped out of his jeans and moved across the room to slip on a pair of pajama pants. "I would have stayed at the manor with you. Sod the media, they don't know anything." Except they did. They knew about the drugs and with their past...God, they weren't going to be left alone anytime soon.

"I am sorry you got mixed up in this. It is my fault." Sherlock took out a cigarette, lit it and began smoking it right away. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled the smoke out of his nose slowly. He had managed to ruin his good mood all on his own. He sighed at his thoughts and then took another long drag.

"Please don't blame yourself Sherlock." John opened the door to their bedroom and glanced around. Still quiet. He smiled warmly and moved into the kitchen to start a kettle. Now he just needed to relax because the conversation was making his muscles tight and giving him a headache. "You are fine. Before you know it you will be back home and we will be raising the kids together."

If Sherlock didn't have a cigarette to smoke to help calm him down, he was certain he would have tried to start a fight with John. Well, depending on how his husband reacted to the next question might actually start one anyway. "Would you mind if I picked up smoking again? I don't know if it will be permanent or not. I wouldn't smoke at the flat or even around the kids."

John nearly dropped the phone, swallowing hard as he processed the question. He knew what cigarettes did and as a doctor he wanted to say no right away. That would be a horrible idea. But the rational part of John seriously considered the idea. It would keep his husband calm during cases while balancing his family. It would keep him away from drugs. "I...don't know," he finally admitted softly. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course." That wasn't a question Sherlock would have bothered asking when he first started dating John. Being married meant he had to consider his husband and children. He had failed to do that when he had started using cocaine again. "I am sorry if I upset you," he said quietly after awhile.

"No, it is fine. Sherlock...it's a logical question." John paused. Did he explain his reasoning? That was good communication which was something they always stressed in their relationship. "I mean, it would keep you away from drugs. It helps relieve your stress, you know? But...God, it is such a horrid habit. I am torn," he admitted. And he really was. He wanted the best for Sherlock and either choice benefited him in some way. "Do you think it will help?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I was upset and thought about trying to start a fight, but the cigarettes helped me keep calm." Sherlock shrugged, even though John couldn't see it. He finished the cigarette and squished it out in one of the designated trays on a trash bin. He walked back into the hospital and slumped into a hospital chair in the waiting room. He didn't want to risk waking his mother up while talking on his mobile.

"Oh..." John cleared his throat and poured his cup of tea, preparing it to his taste before taking a noisy sip. "I guess if you don't do it at home or near the kids. I refuse to kiss you if you smell like cigarettes." There. At least establishing some ground rules. Would that upset Sherlock and make him want to start a fight? "I am glad you didn't start a fight with me, though."

"I understand." Sherlock was quiet a moment, his eyes closing in thought. "Since everyone knows I have done drugs thanks to the media, I am thinking of going into one of those narcotics anonymous programs. It might help, don't you think? And it will show I am getting help. Getting clean. What do you think?" Might as well keep the communication open. It was going well so far.

News like that made John smile. Sherlock was really making an effort and was especially trying to fix their public image. "It sounds great, actually. I think it sounds...wonderful, yeah." He chuckled a bit. He was so proud of Sherlock and it was making his heart beat faster. "You are perfect. Sherlock...I am proud of you. I'm...thank you..." He closed his eyes and took another sip of tea before he heard movement from upstairs. "Oh, we have awoken the great sleeping princess."

Sherlock smiled and then it faltered. Shit. He had just agreed to going into a program with a bunch of people he would probably hate. He was going to need another cigarette already. Except, little Sandi was awake now. The thought of his daughter made the smile return.

Thomas was still on the couch, a pillow over his head. He groaned. "People are tryin' to sleep 'round here, ya know." He sounded like the little boy on the island again but right now he didn't care because he was tired.

"And so is our handsome prince," John muttered as he lowered his voice. "Guess which one is a tad more upset about being awake." After a long pause he heard the tell-tale signs of small feet coming down the stairs at a near sprint, something that always made him nervous.

"Dada!" Amy's voice was an exaggerated whisper as she stumbled into the kitchen, completely naked except for her pull-up safety underwear. "Dada, I's wet the bed," she stated with a blush. "Buts I tooked all my clothes off and puts them in the laundry room." She smiled, clearly proud of herself.

"Oi, Sherlock," John groaned and closed his eyes for a long moment. "I am off to clean up a mess, apparently. Want to come home and help me?" He joked with a laugh.

Thomas got up sleepily. He looked at his Dad and then his sister. He groaned and walked back to their room, flopped on the bed and went back to sleep.

Sherlock smirked. "I would love to my dear doctor but I am going to go check on my mother. See if she is awake. I will see you tomorrow at the manor for Baby Girl's birthday. Call me back if you need me to tell her a story. I love you." He terminated the call and walked back to his mother's room.

Mycroft looked up sharply, clearly more awake and alert than earlier in the day. His eyes studied Sherlock for a long moment before his lips twitched into a smirk. "Good enough for a cigarette then?" He squeezed Nancy's hand as his gaze traveled back to their mother. "Do you think she's going to wake up soon? I hate just watching her lay here and...and not doing _anything_. It is so unlike her."

"John is _always_ that good." Sherlock returned the smirk. "Maybe, I don't know. The sleep will do her good. She hasn't been sleeping much lately, although I am sure you noticed that already." He shrugged a little and sat back down into the chair he had been earlier. "I am going to join one of those anonymous groups for narcotics. Since the media has pretty much splashed my face and the words drugs together everywhere, I don't really have to worry about staying anonymous anyway."

Mycroft looked up slowly and sighed. Of course he had noticed, had wanted to say something but was worried about upsetting his mother. "Yes. I did notice but...I don't know, Sherlock. She is an adult, a very proud woman. I couldn't exactly tell our Mum to go to bed." He smiled a bit at that, a small twitch of lips that was clearly forced. But then they were talking about drugs and the media. His eyes narrowed for a moment. "Don't worry. Any media person who published a story about you, print or otherwise, has been blacklisted. No worry about them ever reporting such disgusting and horrid things ever again."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I know. Mum is more stubborn than me, you and Dad combined." He smirked at that. His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?" Most of it had been true. There were drugs in the flat with his children. He had used while they were there. He sighed at his thoughts, the urge for another cigarette washing over him. "Thank you."

"It is my job to protect you, that's what older brothers do." Mycroft shrugged and sat back, keeping Nancy's hand in his own. "I couldn't let them drag you through the mud anymore. If I had caught wind of it then none of it would have happened but...she let the news slip." His eyes moved to their Mum. "Bit of a blessing in disguise, I guess? More business. I have had multiple inquires about you solving some problems with the royal family."

"None of it is her fault!" Sherlock hissed defensively. He wouldn't ever blame any of this on her. He definitely needed another cigarette. He narrowed his eyes at Mycroft. "I hate working for them," he muttered distastefully. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, fingers tapping restlessly on the arms of the chair.

Mycroft let his eyes narrow for a moment. Perhaps now wasn't the best idea to fight while their mother was between them asleep after a minor stroke. He calmed himself down and shifted slightly in his chair. "It is good money and they understand the hours I have set forth. Six figures, Sherlock. You could do two cases and support your family for quite a while." It would be better than private cases and cases from the Yard. Less stressful.

Sherlock didn't like the idea of working for those fake snobs. He sighed. "I will have to talk about it with John. I am not going to say yes without speaking to him first." Communication had been working with them and he wanted to keep that going. He was also stalling on giving Mycroft a straight answer. This would buy him some time. His brother would probably see right through it but it wasn't something Mycroft could really argue against either.

Mycroft bit his tongue almost instantly. No use in arguing. It would turn to yelling and, knowing their luck, that was when Nancy would wake up. He smiled a bit and squeezed her hand. "Do you remember when you tried to jump into the fountain but didn't know how to swim? I have never seen Mum run that fast. She got to you just in time to fall in with you. Soaked but laughing...and you were just so confused."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, shook his head slowly and then shrugged. "No, not really. Did you know I never learned how to swim until John taught me on our honeymoon?" He smirked at the thought. "Apparently I was terrible at first. He said I looked like a drowning fish, which I am not sure is entirely possible." He looked up to Mycroft with a slight smirk.

That surprised Mycroft and he chuckled. "I didn't know that. I swim as often as I can, it's a lot easier than running." He smiled a bit and studied his younger brother. The man constantly surprised him and he had known Sherlock since the day his brother had been born. His thoughts made him smirk and he sat back in his chair. "I remember teaching you how to walk. You were so bloody stubborn."

"Being stubborn is a Holmes trait." Sherlock smirked with a bit of a shrug. Movement on the hospital bed made his gaze switch from Mycroft to his mother.

Nancy woke up slowly, the drugs making her feel groggy. Talking. Her boys. There was a hand in hers and she managed a faint squeeze. There was an oxygen bag helping her breathe so she couldn't talk. She managed a small smile as she looked at her sons.

Mycroft's attention went straight to Nancy, eyes bright as he smiled. "Mum," he whispered as he moved his other hand to her face. "Hello, Mum," he said a bit softer as he returned the squeeze on her hand. It felt like he could finally relax, could sit back and stop worrying for just a bit because Nancy was awake and already looking a bit more like herself. "How do you feel?"

Sherlock got up out of the chair and moved to the other side of the bed. He looked down at her with a smile, even though his eyes still held worry.

Nancy reached up with her free hand and removed the oxygen mask. "I am fine Dear." Her voice was a bit dry and raspy. "Thirsty," she admitted.

Sherlock wasn't sure if he should fuss over his mother or not. She certainly wouldn't like it.

Did they give Nancy water or was that against the rules? Mycroft looked around the room almost frantically. "Water," he muttered to himself. "I will get you water, Mum." He stood slowly and stuck his head out the room, a nurse coming to him immediately. After requesting water he was given a bottle with a straw and he returned to Nancy's bedside immediately. "Here Mum."

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. He wasn't really one to dote, even if someone was ill. He settled for a small reassuring smile. "You are going to be fine Mum."

Nancy smiled at her sons and took a sip of the water. "Thank you Dear." She smiled warmly at Mycroft. She still wasn't clear on everything that happened. She vaguely remembered some pain and the nothing. Probably due to unconsciousness.

A nurse came in and checked everything. Sherlock stepped out of the way so the oxygen mask could be removed. That was a good sign he supposed.

Mycroft stepped back himself, standing next to his younger brother and lowering his gaze. It was just odd to be like this, taking care of their mother. When they were young they were constantly being taken care of by Nancy and doted over themselves. "We are glad you're awake," he said softly with a foolish smile. What did they do now? Stay in the hospital or go home with their families? Everything seemed so complicated.

Sherlock nodded in agreement with Mycroft. "The hospital is going to release you tomorrow Mum."

Nancy narrowed her eyes a bit. "Isn't Amy's birthday tomorrow? I am not missing my granddaughter's third birthday! I want to leave now. I am fine." She gave her sons reassuring smiles.

Well, he couldn't really argue with his mother could he? He was always yelling at some staff member or other to get the hell out of a hospital. Sherlock smirked slightly to himself and turned his head to look at Mycroft.

"What?" Mycroft glanced at Sherlock nervously and cleared his throat. How did the respond to that? He couldn't just say no to his Mum. "We...need you to stay here for a while. You had a stroke, Mum and all that noise won't be very good. We are going to have a separate party at night for the family, quieter and better for you but it would probably be a lot better to stay here." There. Not too bad, right? He shifted slightly on his feet and glanced at his younger brother.

Sherlock nodded along with what Mycroft said. "You need to take it easy Mum. There is no hurry here. Besides, Amy will be delighted to have _two_ parties." Hopefully little Sandi wouldn't think she would get two parties every year. Hell, she was so spoiled he would probably let her if she asked with big wide eyes and a pouting face. It was pretty much impossible for him to tell his daughter no.

Nancy narrowed her eyes further. "I may be getting a bit older, but I am not a frail old croon that needs looking after!" She sighed, glaring at her youngest son. "You think you can use cute little Amy to get your way?" She sighed again, a small smile coming on her lips. "All right, but stop fretting over me so much. I am fine. You two should go home and be with your families."

Mycroft closed his eyes for a long moment and smiled, chuckling slightly. "We are not going home, Mum. You stayed at our beside when we were young and sick. Why can't we do the same?" He glanced back at Sherlock and moved forward to sit in his chair, patting Sherlock's expectantly. "We are staying here tonight with you and you can't change our mind."


	21. Chapter 21

"Right, Amy, please," John muttered and sighed when she pouted and shook her head again. "Papa's busy."

"No! Story!" Amy crossed her arms harshly over her chest and sniffed, her little eyes already read. "Story!" She shrieked.

"Oi, all right," John muttered as he picked up his mobile and dialed Sherlock's number. "Hey. I have got a rather pouty princess here who is requesting a bedtime story. You are on speaker."

Sherlock was about to say something to his mother when his mobile rang. "Bedtime story, I will be back in a bit." He left the room and began pacing the corridor as he answered the call. "Hi there Baby Girl. Need a story from Papa to help sleep? Of course." He was quiet a moment as he tried to think of something. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess and her Daddy the King loved her very much. Anything she asked for, he would give her. Ponies. Personal servants. _Anything_. Even though the Princess had everything she could ever want, she was still unhappy. She wanted to fall in love. Well, that was one thing the King couldn't give her. He presented the Princess with several handsome and rich Princes but she didn't want to marry any of them. One day the Princess was in trouble by some bandits and a brave, street girl saved the Princess. The two fell in love at first sight. They got married and lived happily ever after."

Amy smiled tiredly and curled her body around John's phone, looking at it with half-open eyes. "'S good," she muttered through a yawn before she finally fell asleep, snoring softly. John relaxed almost instantly and gently pried the mobile from their daughter's hands.

"Jesus, she was being so stubborn tonight," John whispered as he stood up and gently shut the door to the bedroom. "Raising an almost three-year-old is exhausting work." And it was keeping him positive because this time three years ago he was back in London on a week leave from Afghanistan...and Sarah had died. He cleared his throat and moved to sit in his chair. "How is Nancy?"

Sherlock smirked, even though John couldn't see it. "Mum is okay, I think. She just woke up a little bit ago and demanded to go home. Not that I really blame her, but Mycroft and I managed to talk her into staying the rest of the night to get some rest. What time should I come over to the manor tomorrow? Will you need help with the preparations?" Shit. He hadn't even bought a gift yet. He would have to do some last minute shopping tomorrow before the party.

"I...actually called and talked to Charlie," John said with a small laugh. "And figured it out. All decorated and ready to go for little Amy. And don't worry about a present, got her three. One from you, one from me, and one from the family." Everything right now was so busy that he needed to help out the best he could. "Could you be there at one or so? And is Nancy coming with you?" He bit his bottom lip as he shifted in the chair and yawned.

"John, I am going to buy our daughter a present." Sherlock didn't know how to explain that he _needed_ to do this. Shit, was John going to get upset? Had he accidentally started a fight? Oh. His husband had asked a question. "Yeah, that is fine. No, not for the party with the kids. Mycroft and I will bring her home for the second one that is for the family."

Right. Sherlock was quite the father. "All right," he said with a soft smile despite the fact that his husband couldn't see it. "Go buy her a present, love...she will just get a lot of them. Three year olds like them, yeah?" There was a small rustle from upstairs and he held his breath before Amy stopped moving in bed. That had been close. "I can't believe she's three."

"Yeah, she is at that age where she likes to get things. She is going through a dog craze stage, but I am going to see if I can find her something else." Sherlock wasn't sure what he was going to buy yet but he was hoping he would know it when he saw it. "I know, she is growing up so fast. It has been amazing to watch. Crawling, her first steps, talking and God John she is so smart." It was clear he was a proud father.

Smart? Technically, and John's gut twisted at the thought, Amy was related to him. There was no way in Hell his daughter should be classified smart, especially by Sherlock's standards. He blushed at the thought and dropped his head. "She is amazing," he whispered without a second thought. He was fairly sure the little girl had been their reason for staying together for so many reasons, even if she almost tore them apart when she was discovered. "When can I come and see you? I miss you."

Sherlock smirked. "Almost as amazing as me." He thought for a moment before answering the question. "You can come see me whenever you want. I am sure Mrs. Hudson would be more than happy to watch the children for you." He paused in his pacing to lean against a wall. "I miss you already too." And he did. It felt like things kept happening to stop him from being with his family.

It had only been a few hours but they missed each other already. All John could think about was giving Sherlock a slow kiss and pressing his face into his husband's chest. "I think I will be there in an hour or so. I won't stay the whole night but...I just want to see you." He chuckled and closed his eyes as he held the phone a little tighter. "I miss you," he repeated in a whisper.

"If you bring lubricant, I will shag you in a supply closet. If we had time, we could do a doctor/patient role play. God knows we have been in a hospital enough." Where had that come from? Sherlock hadn't been able to help himself. It had just popped into his head and now he really wanted to try. Shit. He was getting a hard on just thinking about.

John's eyes shot open at that and he swallowed hard. It definitely wasn't what he had in mind when coming to visit Sherlock but it didn't sound horrible. "I...sure," he finally replied with a laugh as he reached under the cushion of his chair and grabbed one of their many hidden small bottles. "Want to see your Mum first. I want to see how she is doing." He cleared his throat and slipped the lube into his front pocket. "Is that all right?"

"Of course it is. We don't have to, if you don't want to. It was just an idea that came to me suddenly." After shagging on the couch, Sherlock had constantly wanted to be with John. Like on their honeymoon when they had shagged five times in one day. Was he going to be able to wait? He was already squirming and hard with all his rampant thoughts of sex.

It was clear that Sherlock wanted to be close. Hell, he couldn't deny that he missed his husband's touch. It might help him sleep a bit easier when he went back to the flat for the night. "I want to. God, Sherlock, I miss you." He laughed softly and shifted in his chair. Now he felt it, realized how aroused he was. "Be there soon," he said with a low voice, tying to calm himself down. "Love you," he ended the call and stood up, moving downstairs and receiving a knowing smile from their landlady. He darted out the door, managed to get a taxi, and was walking toward Nancy's room before he knew it. He gently pushed the door open to the hospital room, his eyes instantly searching for his husband.

Sherlock hung up his mobile and smirked at the people staring at him in the hallway. Okay. Now he just needed something to distract him from his thoughts. Should he walk back to his mother's room with his trousers bulging like that? It hardly seemed appropriate and Mycroft would _definitely_ say something. He needed to think of something else to calm him down. Like remembering that he had a narcotics group to get into. That did it. He was certain John would be able to get him going again. His husband always could. He walked back into the room and sat back down in the chair. "John will be coming around to see you Mum."

Nancy smiled. "That will be good. Knowing you two, he isn't just coming here to see me." She smirked at her youngest son as the door opened and her son-in-law came in.

Nancy was talking and he managed a smile in her direction and then moved toward Sherlock, gently meeting his husband's lips. John pulled away with a shaky breath, keeping his eyes closed for a long moment before he smiled. "Hi," he whispered before his entire face flushed a deep red. "Um, right, N-Nancy. Hi." He stood straight up and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "How are you feeling?" God, why hadn't he been more polite? How rude of him.

Sherlock smirked back at his mother and gave a slight shrug. He turned his attention to John, another smirk forming on his lips. "Hi Love."

"I am fine Dear. I wanted to go home now, but the boys won't let me. I tried to get them to go home to their families, and they still won't listen." Nancy shook her head slightly but smiled warmly at John.

John smiled a bit and moved to lean against Sherlock's chair, moving a hand to gently massage the back of his husband's neck. "They are very right, Nancy. Keeping you here is good. You will get better a lot faster." He paused and turned to place a soft kiss on the top of Sherlock's head. "Just in time for Amy's little family party."

Sherlock closed his eyes from the contact. It felt wonderful. It was calming and soothing. John's touch was always so amazing to feel.

"I know you didn't come to just see me." Nancy smirked knowingly. "Go have your fun, but don't expect me or Mycroft to bail you out if the hospital catches you and sends you to jail."

Right. John blushed at that, his hand gently pinching the back of Sherlock's neck. "I...yes. Sorry," he whispered with a nervous lick of his lips.

Mycroft smirked from his chair while squeezing Nancy's hand. "Exactly. So not too loud, John," he said with a smirk as he sat back.

"Oi, hush up," John replied softly as he curled his fingers and started scratching at the base of Sherlock's skull, right at the hair line. "What if we planned on just going out for lunch?"

Sherlock was enjoying John's hand on his head, head tilting slightly into the touch. He was only half listening to the conversation going on around him. He was enthralled by his husband's touch.

Nancy arched a brow. "Well then, don't get caught there either." She was getting tired again already and gave a small yawn. "I am going to sleep some more I think my dears."

John stumbled over his words, the fingers in Sherlock's hair going still. "Right. Yes, go ahead and sleep," he said to Nancy with a bit of a smile. "Come on." He looked down at Sherlock and bent at the waist to give his husband and quick kiss. "I am hungry. Let's go eat," he muttered with a strong blush. When had he become such a horrible liar?

Sherlock arched a brow as he opened his eyes. "John, they know. It isn't a bit deal." He gave his husband a quick kiss on the cheek before standing. "We will probably be awhile this time around." He gave a smirk to Mycroft, grabbed John's hand and then led them out of the room. "There is a floor in this hospital that is being renovated but at this hour, it will probably be empty. It will give us some privacy. We can take the lift up to the floor, but we will have to take the stairs the rest of the way." He pushed the button to the lift.

John followed after his husband silently, too afraid to talk now. They knew. God, Sherlock's family knew what they were doing. He cleared his throat and looked up at Sherlock, managing a small smile. "Sounds good," he whispered as he squeezed his partner's hand. "Sounds very good." He turned on his feet and press his body completely against Sherlock's with a grin. "I can't wait to feel you inside of me."

When the doors opened, Sherlock was tempted to use the emergency stop on the elevator and take John there. With his husband pressed against him like that, it was difficult not to undo both of their trousers now. "How do you want to do it? I figured you would be the doctor. Do I seduce you? Or you seduce me? Or did you want to skip the role play and go straight to shagging?"

John titled his head with a small shrug, grinning as he nipped at the pulse point in his husband's neck. "Don't care, just really want you," he muttered against Sherlock's skin. What had gotten into him? Obviously not Sherlock yet. He snorted at his thoughts and pressed his nose against Sherlock's ear. "Whatever you want."

Sherlock frowned but nodded. Perhaps another time for the role play then. John didn't seem to be interested in it anyway. Did his husband even want to shag now? When the doors opened, he led them up a flight of stairs. The door was locked. Using a credit card and a knife he jimmied it open. The halls were lined with plastic and smelled of paint. He found a room for them and closed the door behind them just in case. His initial zeal was gone but maybe he could get them both back in the mood. He leaned into John, pressing his husband into the door he had just closed. He began kissing John, hoping that would get things going.

John moaned softly into Sherlock's mouth, moving both of his hands into the back of his husband's backs and squeezing his ass, yanking Sherlock forward. "Fuck," he whispered into his husband's mouth. After a slow roll of his hips forward, John lifted one leg to wrap it slightly around his husband's thighs. "Love you. God, I love you."

Okay, so maybe John _did_ want him but with his husband being so eager now, he figured foreplay was out of the question. It was a bit disappointing but it was clear John needed him right now. He pressed into his husband with a moan, moving his lips to John's neck where he began sucking and biting. "Love you too," he murmured into his husband's skin.

There was something wrong. John had felt the slight tensing of his husband's body. He gasped slightly, his hands moving slowly out of Sherlock's pants. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" He was breathing hard and couldn't help the small movement of his hips. "Tell me what's wrong, Sherlock." He swallowed hard pushed his head back as far as possible to look at his husband. "Do you want to do that? Do the doctor thing?" God, he didn't want to ruin anything.

"No its fine." When had he become so transparent? "Everything is fine," Sherlock repeated. He rocked into John again, trying to motivate himself. He had been so eager during the phone call. Had he really been that disappointed about the role play? God, he was becoming needy wasn't he? Should he just tell John to forget about this whole damn thing? Would that upset his husband? Maybe he could distract John. He went back to biting and sucking on his husband's neck, growling slightly. He thrust his hips into John a bit roughly, with another growl.

Something was wrong and Sherlock was denying it but _Jesus_ he had just pushed him roughly into the door. John took a moment to gather his wits and think. If he brought it up again the mood would certainly be gone but he didn't want to force his husband into anything. "Sherlock, no." He lifted his hands and placed them gently on his husband's chest. "Talk to me. What's wrong?" His eyes moved to meet the man's gaze intently.

Sherlock sighed. How was he supposed to explain to his husband that before he had been eager and now he wasn't? It wasn't like him to lose interest in sex like this. "I don't know. You didn't seem to want to before and now you do…" He sighed again and shrugged a bit. Fuck. Was he pouting? Was that what was going on here?

It wasn't exactly a lie, was it? John hadn't been too keen on it over the phone. "I wasn't but seeing you..." He bit his lip, still breathing heavily. God, being pinned between the door and his husband wasn't doing anything to help calm him down. "I can't help it. And I do want you now but if you don't want to have sex right now then we aren't. I am not doing that to you at all." He stood on toes and gave Sherlock a slow and gentle kiss.

"If you weren't interested, you could have just told me that." Sherlock returned the kiss. "When I thought you didn't want to, I had lost interest too…and then you were…" He trailed off with a sigh and a shrug of his slim shoulders. This had never really been a problem for them before. It was weird to be having this conversation.

John chuckled a bit, gently running a hand gently down Sherlock's chest. "Wanted to make you happy. After the couch in your Mum's living room...I couldn't help it." He smiled a bit and lifted his hand to rest it gently on his husband's cheek. "You convinced me. You had it all planned, pulled me upstairs...I just thought..." Damn he had ruined this.

Sherlock shrugged again. "It's fine." He couldn't think of anything else to say anymore. Shagging wasn't really appealing to him right now, even with the slow kisses and light touches he was receiving from his husband. He should probably just take them back downstairs, since nothing was going to happen now.

Definitely ruined it. John closed his eyes for a long moment and pulled his husband closer. "I am sorry," he whispered as he leaned forward and rested his head on Sherlock's chest. "I didn't mean to ruin this at all for you." He was a horrible husband, wasn't he? Why did he always have to ruin everything. Maybe he could turn Sherlock on? Get him excited again? "Do you remember you said you had an idea for when we shagged with the window? Tell me about it," he said softly as he moved a hand to start gently massaging Sherlock's side.

Sherlock wasn't sure now was the best time to explain what he had planned to John. "I wanted to tape it." He looked down at the floor, modest and embarrassed by something sexual related for the first time. If his husband didn't want to do this new idea for role play he had doubts about this prospect actually happening.

Oh. John's hand tightened momentarily on Sherlock's side. That was very new and _very_ different. He was sure his breath caught loudly in his throat. "Right," he whispered with a blush. Videotaped. Sex against the window and a video camera. "I...all right..." He looked up at his husband with a sheepish smile. Why not? "As long as the children don't find it, yeah? But...would we watch it later?" He giggled softly and buried his face into Sherlock's chest.

"Really?" Sherlock looked up at John in surprise. "I don't know. Maybe. I...read about it in one of my books. It sounded interesting so I wanted to try it." He gave a slight shrug. He liked doing and trying new things with John. So far he had liked everything, just some more than others.

"Really," John said with a soft smile, pressing his nose against the crook in Sherlock's neck. "I want to do it. I know you want it. Why not?" He pressed his hips lightly against his husband. "Where would we put it? The camera, I mean. On a stand? In my chair?" He opened his mouth and nipped gently at Sherlock's neck. His husband constantly tried to seduce him so why not try it himself? His free hand moved into the back of Sherlock's trousers and squeezed his ass.

Sherlock smiled. "I love you so much my dear doctor. You are so amazing." He embraced John in a tight hug. He moaned at his husband's touch. He couldn't help but press his hips into John, with another moan. Maybe he would get to do the role play after all. "I think I am need of a doctor. There is this man I know and I can't keep my hands off of him. What would you prescribe?"

John hummed into Sherlock's neck, a smile tugging ay his lips. "That is a fantastic question," he whispered as his hips stopped. Sherlock wanted a role play. "Maybe try to stop thinking about him? Or perhaps talk to him?" His hand moved gently toward Sherlock's entrance, one finger slowly entering him. Daring, certainly, but he couldn't help himself. "Tell him how much you want him and see what his reaction is?" He pulled his finger out and moved his hand from Sherlock's trousers. "I am not sure there is a medication for it."

Sherlock moaned loudly, his knees buckling a bit as he felt John's finger. It had been unexpected but more than welcomed. "What about laying down with him? Would that help rid of the symptoms? Touchitis, is it?" He smirked a bit. He had no idea where he was going with this. There hadn't been any real forethought like the other fantasies.

John snorted slightly at the statement but nodded. "Perhaps. Does he want to lay with you?" Did he get more bold with his statements? God, he couldn't help himself as his lips moved languidly against his husband's neck. "Want to have you above him and inside of him?" His lips tugged in a smirk and he gently pressed his hips forward. Jesus. How could he keep this going? He wanted Sherlock now. "Try laying down with him. Talking to him, whispering to him."

Sherlock couldn't help but grin. "Hmm, I think this man I speak of is even more eager than I am right now. Should I give him what he wants? Or make him work for it?" He leaned down and began sucking loudly on John's neck, nibbling on it from time to time. There was certainly going to be a mark there later. Marking his husband was one of his favorite things to do. He pressed into John roughly with his hips, slamming his husband into the door. He growled into the skin, biting harder than before.

Rough. God, it was rough. The door wiggled slightly and John let out a low moan. "G-Give it to him," he whispered brokenly. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of teeth sinking into his skin. "Yes. Please..." He arched his back and quickly wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, eagerly pressing his hips forward multiple times. "Please. Good medicine." Damn he sounded like a whore but he didn't care.

Sherlock smirked proudly as he pulled away from John's neck. The rough thing seemed to be working out for them, and shit he loved it rough. So, he kept with the current motif. He grabbed his husband by the shirt and dragged him over to the hospital bed. He shoved John down and eagerly straddled his husband. He rubbed his throbbing bulge onto John's stomach with a moan, enjoying the friction from the fabric.

Everything happened so fast that the moment he felt Sherlock above him, felt the man's erection against his stomach, he moaned loudly. John bit his bottom lip and moved his hands instantly to Sherlock's hips, grabbing them tightly and lifting his hips up as rough as he could manage. "Does this man like it rough? Like being manhandled and used?" He asked breathlessly, gasping as he glanced between them.

Sherlock smirked down at John. "Sometimes he does. Sometimes he begs for it. Wants it so bad, he can't keep his hands off of me." He pressed his erection against his husband tightly, causing him to moan again. They hadn't even started yet and he could hardly keep quiet. He had discovered he quite liked drawing out their role plays but he wasn't sure he had that kind of self control right now. With everything being so rough, his mind was fuzzy with arousal and desire.

Fuck. How could he keep everything up after that? Sherlock had just described John to a tee and he was so bloody turned on. "Is that so?" He replied with a low moan, a hand moving up Sherlock's back to grasp tightly at his husband's shirt. "Then use him," he directed softly, turning his head to press his lips against Sherlock's ear. "Use him and have your way. That is probably what he has wanted all along."

Maybe just a little longer. If only to hear John beg for it. Did it turn his husband on? Christ, it turned him on when John made him beg on those occasion his husband had control. Sherlock began marking the other side of John's neck. "I want to hear him beg for it. Squirm below me. Writhing with desire and lust. Make him so crazy, he is screaming my name and pleading with me to do whatever I want." He continued to rub his hard on into his husband's stomach, moaning into John's neck.

Of course Sherlock would manage to keep his mind focused. John moaned loudly, his hips pressing up hard enough to move the bed a bit on the floor. "And he will beg. God, I am sure he would," he whispered as he turned his head, grinning when his lips were nearly next to his husband's ear. "Would tell you that your cock was beautiful and he needed it inside of him. Rough and hard." He nipped at Sherlock's ear with a small gasp. "So hard he didn't want to walk the next day." His hips lifted roughly again and he let out a short cry, his hand curling so his fingernails could dig into Sherlock's back. "Then he would scream, spread his legs like a whore, and tell you he needed you." John wiggled, his legs spreading as he tried to control his breathing.

Sherlock whimpered as John spoke into his ear. "God yes. I think he would needed to be reminded that some form of lubricant is needed unless he meant in the most literal way he didn't want to walk the next day." He turned his head to smirk at his husband. He continued to squirm and press into the man below him with small moans of desire. He was beginning to leak pre-cum, staining the front of his trousers.

Hell, Sherlock even had time to be a smart ass. John smirked and reached between them, pulling the small bottle of lube from his pocket and shoving it harshly against Sherlock's chest. "I am sure by now he would tell you that he would want to be on his stomach and pounded into so hard he got a burn on his stomach from the blankets," he whispered with a small blush. "And that he would scream your name with each thrust, yeah?" He lifted his hips shallowly as he started getting more desperate.

"Oh, he would…would he? Hmmm, I might have to think about that." Sherlock growled and bit John's neck like he had on the other side. Lubricant. Right. He sat up slowly, still mounted on his husband's hips. He fiddled with his trousers and when they slid down he kicked them off one pant leg at a time. He prepped himself with a moan, some of the pre-cum dripping onto John.

Bloody tease. John watched Sherlock, mesmerized by what was going on. God, Sherlock was so hard and...he grinned and ran his finger through the pre-cum on his shirt, looking up at his husband before slowly sliding his finger into his mouth. Two could play at that game. He moaned softly and moved a hand to wrap around Sherlock's in an attempt to help him get as prepped as possible. "Think about it? What if he begged? What if he said 'Oh, Sherlock please' and things like that?"

Sherlock glanced down to watch John's finger. Anytime his husband sucked on something, he found it extremely hot and he couldn't help but whimper. "Y-yes. That would be good. V-very good." God, John had turned him into a stuttering idiot by licking that finger. He kept replaying the image in his head and then suddenly he was thinking about the time with the riding crop. Shit. Now he wished he had the damned thing. Why hadn't they used it again since that wonderful moment?

John kept his hand wrapped around Sherlock, squeezing his husband's hand and watching his cock curiously. He stretched his back and pressed his mouth against Sherlock's ear. "Sherlock please. God, I want you. Use me," he whispered as he lifted his hips slowly. "Use me." Of course he sounded like a whore but that's what his husband wanted and he wasn't going to ruin this again.

Sherlock had lost himself in lustrous thoughts, that he almost didn't hear John speak. What? Oh right. He was supposed to be shagging his husband. He undid John's trousers. Had his husband said something about being on the stomach? He couldn't stop thinking about the riding crop and it was very distracting, but in the most wonderful way. He got some lubricant on his fingers, he remembered that much at least.

It was very clear that Sherlock was slightly distracted. John took a deep breath and kicked his pants and underwear off. "Sherlock..." He moved to gently meet his husband's lips. "Sherlock," he muttered behind he kiss. Now he was getting desperate and if Sherlock didn't start paying attention he was sure he would go crazy. He shifted and moved to lay on his stomach, turning to look at his husband with a flushed face.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered as he slid his fingers into John with a few quick thrusts. "I was thinking about the time I used the riding crop on you and how much I wish I had it right now." He smirked down at his husband, and after a few more rough thrusts with his fingers figured that would be sufficient prepping. He entered quickly, with a loud satisfying moan. He leaned down to begin biting John on the back and shoulder. Now this reminded him of the island and the only good moment they had shared together while there.

John shouted and dug his hands into the sheets below him. Riding crop. Jesus. He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to dig his teeth into the bed in an attempt to muffle his noises. After this he was definitely going to look like Hell. On his neck, his back and shoulder. And he loved it. "Sherlock, please," he shouted as he moved up the bed slightly, moaning as his erection rubbed against the bed beneath him. "Harder. God, please!"

"Eager aren't we Love?" Sherlock smirked again and complied with the request. The thrusts were hard and quick, ramming as far as he could go and grunting from the effort. It would certainly get him off quick, it always did. He moved his lips to the back of John's neck and began to suck loudly, not at all concerned with muffling any of the noise.

"Ahh! Mmph..." John smashed his face into the mattress with a loud shout and grunted when his body slid slightly up the hospital bed. Jesus, this was too good. They hadn't shagged this rough in a long time. They couldn't risk the kids finding them and this was definitely noisy. Now he could hardly form coherent sentences. "Sherlo'-" he whimpered and it turned into a shout as he tried to lift his hips to meet the thrusts from his husband but failed, instead just laying there to enjoy it all.

Sherlock was feeling rather proud of himself right now. He hadn't realized how much he had missed shagging this hard until now. It was always so wonderfully rough. Something he had discovered very early on in their relationship that he loved. After a few more quick thrusts, he came and moaned John's name into his husband's neck. He didn't' last long, but he had expected that. He collapsed slightly to one side of John, breathing heavily. He didn't mind all the effort and energy it took to do that, it was always worth it. He slid his hand under his husband's stomach, and took hold of John's erection. He began the fastest pace he could manage, while being winded.

John rolled slightly to the side to help Sherlock out, looking at him with half-open eyes as he came roughly across his stomach. "Sherlo'-" he rolled closer to his husband and winced, trying to stay on his side to ignore the pain. He rested his head against Sherlock's chest with a soft sigh. "Thank y-you." He closed his eyes and whimpered as he tried to calm his breathing. "Good. So good."

Sherlock was exhausted. Rough sex always took a lot out of him and couple that with his mother being hospitalized and everything else period lately he was completely worn out. "…'sgood…" He muttered, his eyes slipping closed before he even had a chance to realize he was falling asleep. He snuggled into John automatically, his nose nuzzling into his husband's shoulder. "Love you," he murmured as he his breathing evened out and body stilled.

Sleep. Had John's request been too much? It had felt amazing and he couldn't help himself. Sod it. Let his husband sleep and he would stop worrying. "You are wonderful," he whispered into Sherlock's hair before he closed his eyes. When he woke up he was certainly going to feel everything but he was exhausted and he couldn't help himself. Sleep, especially with Sherlock curled against him, was too hard to fight. He finally gave in and let himself fall asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Sherlock had slept until the next morning and the only reason he woke up was because he heard movement in the hall. He groaned, eyes slowly opening. Shit. The crew working on this floor were outside the door. At least he had closed the door the night before. How long had he slept? "John? Love, you need to wake up. Amy's birthday. We need to get ready for it." He whispered into his husband's ear, hoping they wouldn't be heard. At least no one was trying to get in, for now.

John mumbled and tried to move away from Sherlock, gasping at the sudden pain shooting through his body. Right. Rough shagging wasn't exactly nice on his body. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. Had his husband said something? He opened his eyes a bit more and tensed, turning to look at the noises in the hallway. "Shit." He shot up at that, ignoring the pain and quickly finding all of his clothes. Amy's party and...Mrs. Hudson. "I was supposed to pick them up last night. Fuck," he muttered as he looked at Sherlock and panicked slightly. "How are we going to explain to them that we were up here? 'Oh don't worry. We were just shagging' isn't going to wo- oh.." He smiled and tossed Sherlock's clothes to him. "We will tell them our curious son came up here without us knowing. Yes. Good. Very good." He pulled his mobile from his jeans pocket and sent a quick text to Mrs. Hudson to let her know that they would meet her and the kids at the manor.

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow as he watched John rush around the room. It was pretty much the reaction he was expecting but it didn't make it any less amusing to him. When his clothes were tossed to him, he finally sat up and began getting dressed. "That would work, if we had our son with us Love." He still had to buy little Sandi a gift and check on his mother. Fuck, if he wasn't failing at being a husband and a father, then he was certainly failing as a son. He couldn't do anything right, could he? Mycroft probably wouldn't let him hear the end of it. His brother was always judging him and accusing him of something or other and he had certainly given Mycroft the opportunity now. Right. They needed to get out of this room. "You going to be okay to walk, my dear doctor?" He slid off the bed and walked over to John.

"They don't know that, do they?" John smirked up at his husband. "That is why we lost him," he added, clearly proud of himself. He shifted on his feet and then it hit him. Holy shit. He swayed forward with a grunt and rested his head against his husband's chest. Damn, he was sore. He had certainly expected it but...it had been a while. "Ouch," he whispered softly as he closed his eyes. "Mrs. Hudson s-said," he looked at his phone the best he could. "Amy is still asleep so we have got a bit. Go get your present and I will go talk to your Mum and see how she is doing." He looked up at Sherlock with a weak smile.

Sherlock supported John easily, enveloping his husband in a brief hug. "It is fine. I will get it on the way to the manor. I will leave a little a early, to buy myself some time. You should go the flat and rest for a bit. Maybe get some lotion or ice for you." He kissed the top of John's head before releasing his husband from the hug. He walked to the door, waited for some workers to go by and then opened it. With any luck, no one would even notice them. He made his way back towards to the door the stairs, still helping to hold John up.

"Oi, can I 'elp you?" One of the workers watched the two men curiously and took a step forward. "This floor is off limits!"

John stood gently and nodded, wincing as he supported himself. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Our son, he is nine, and he ran up here while we were visiting his Grandma." He smiled a bit and the worker looked around for a moment.

"Well we ain't seen no little boys 'round here so...sorry mate." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "'Ope you find 'im, though."

John nodded and pushed the door open, leaning against Sherlock the moment he could. "I am fine. I will just go sit downstairs and talk to your Mum. It isn't a problem. No time to go to the flat. Go buy the present." He stood on his toes and gently met Sherlock's lips. "I am fine."

Sherlock nodded. "All right my dear doctor. I will see you again soon. Give my love to my mother. Don't let Mycroft give you too hard of a time." He smirked a bit and kissed the top of John's head. He helped his husband down the stairs and then into the elevator. "Sorry I fell asleep right after, guess I was more exhausted than I realized. With everything going on…" He trailed off with a slight shrug.

"Sherlock," John said sternly, much like a father. "It's all fine. Sleeping...everything. I love sleeping with you, even if it is on some bed on a floor of a hospital that's being redone. It's something I will never take for granted." For a moment he just studied their blurry reflections in the metallic of the lift door, admiring their figures together. "They are probably thinking we shagged like rabbits all night," he muttered as he glanced up at his husband. "We only really shagged like rabbits once," he added with a smirk as a hand slid down Sherlock's back to gently squeeze his ass. "But sleep is good. We have got to get ready to deal with a bunch of young children. We booth needed that."

Sherlock smiled. "I love you." He kissed the top of John's head again as the doors slid open. "This is your floor. I have to go down to the lobby and find the nearest toy store, since I can't give her a little sister." He smirked a bit at that. He pressed the button, to make sure the doors didn't close yet. "I will see you soon."

John took a small step forward and grinned. "I love you, too," he said as he turned and met Sherlock's lips again. After the couch, after denying himself access to his husband for nearly a week, he was constantly missing the man's touch. "See you soon." There. Much better. He cleared his throat and stepped slowly out of the elevator, looking toward Nancy's room as he did his best to walk without any sign of pain. Why was he trying to hide it? They would both know, they always did. How was everybody in the Holmes family a genius? He gently pushed the door open and smiled, but instantly blushed at the look from Mycroft.

"You could just tell him to be gentle," Mycroft muttered as his eyes scanned John's body in one swift motion. "Your poor neck. Purple marks abound."

John dropped his head and yanked at the collar of his shirt to try and cover the love marks Sherlock had left the night before.

Nancy was awake again and she smirked knowingly at John. "You two sure do like to have your fun. If it makes you feel any better Dear, I have walked in on Gregory and Mycroft in the kitchen once. Poor Gregory was so embarrassed he avoided me for over a week." She chuckled a bit. "You should have seen the marks left on both of them."

John marginally lifted his head, licking his lips before smirking in Mycroft's direction.

"Mum!" Mycroft looked completely awestruck that Nancy would say something like that. "You said you were _out_ and wouldn't be back for a couple of _hours_. You were in the bloody garden and came back half an hour later!" He nearly growled before letting a small blush take over his face. Oh did he remember Gregory being petrified. "Jesus, he wouldn't sleep with me for two weeks," he added softly with a tinge of regret.

Right. Time to get off the subject. John could worry about how sore his arse was and the bite marks he felt across his shoulder blades later. "Nancy, how are you?" John moved to her beside with a warm smile and gently took her hand, patting it. "You gave me quite the scare."

Nancy smiled a bit at her eldest son before turning her attention to John. "I am fine Dear. Ready to go home still, but here I am. Where has Sherlock run off too? Or is he in worse shape than you are and couldn't make it?" She smirked at her son-in-law. She enjoyed giving all her children a hard time, it was easy to get them so worked. Except her youngest son, Sherlock was always so open about such things.

John was sure there was no way he could turn more red, but at Nancy's statement he coughed slightly. "I...er, he is f-fine. I-I was the one-" Nope, not going there at all. There was no way he was discussing who was on the receiving end the previous night. "Just went out to get Amy her present. I am afraid he got a bit busy with...everything, you know, to buy her something." He smiled a bit and squeezed her hand. There, not too bad. He had managed to get past what he hoped would be the most awkward part with his mother-in-law. "And I am sure you will be out of here before you know it and heading back to the manor for Amy's family party."

Nancy smirked again. "Sherlock loves Amy so much." Her smirk turned into a soft smile at the thought. "I have never seen him be so gentle and loving with anyone before. He changed for you John, but seeming him with his daughter. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen. Amy will certainly grow up spoiled at this rate."

John was fairly sure spoiled was an understatement. "Nancy, you should see Amy with him. She is...God, I think she knows that she has her Papa wrapped around her finger." He smiled a bit and swallowed hard. Mycroft was wrapped up in his mobile which meant he wasn't paying attention. He glanced nervously at Nancy. "I was so afraid he would hate her, Nancy. I was so scared that...that my mistake was going to ruin his life and Amy would grow up with Sherlock constantly seeing her as my idiotic choices but-" His voice broke. When had he gotten so emotional? Jesus. "But he loves her like his own and...I am so thankful that you all just treat her like a Holmes."

"Of course she knows. She is certainly Papa's little girl, probably always will be. Sherlock will say yes to every request if he could, I am sure." Nancy's smile grew, showing nothing but warmth. "She is a wonderful little girl, John. She is so lucky to have you as parents. You made a mistake sure, but look at how amazing things turned out? It was a blessing in disguise Dear."

John lifted his eyes and smiled. "If I could hug you right now I would," he said softly as he struggled with the surge of emotions his body was feeling. "I...just. Thank you." He chuckled a bit and pulled her hand to his lips and gave the top of her hand a kiss. "You are wonderful. I really, truly mean that Nancy. You have changed my life." He grinned like a little boy and jumped slightly when the chime from his phone interrupted the moment. He used his free hand to grab his mobile and read the text message. "Right. I am afraid I'm needed at the party of a rather rambunctious three year old. I will see you in a few hours." After slipping his mobile in his pocket and stood, bending at the waist to give Nancy a quick kiss on her forehead, before leaving the room. He got into the always-present black car and arrived in the manor at no time, instantly being attacked by Amy.

"Dada! I'm is three!" Amy screamed with a laugh as she held her arms up in a demand to be lifted. John obeyed and picked her up. "Presents? I wants to open them!"

"Oi, we have got to wait for Papa you silly girl," John said as he weaved his way through the mass of three year olds. Jesus, when did kids this age get so many friends? He shook his head to ignore his thoughts as he carried their little girl to her birthday cake and inspected it closely.

Sherlock was having trouble deciding on what to get. Another stuffed dog wasn't special enough for little Sandi's birthday. He needed something amazing. Something she would love and squeal with joy over. He finally settled on something, because he was certain it wasn't something anyone else would buy. It looked interesting enough. Hopefully Amy would like it. He paid extra to have it gift wrapped there and then took a taxi to the manor. There were children already running around everywhere.

John kept his back to the door, looking around the party for a moment. Perfect. He knew he could count on Charlie when he would rather shag his husband. Everybody who worked at the manor had certainly understood, didn't ask questions.

Amy kept looking around over her Daddy's shoulder, watching every kid at her party with curiosity but some hint of boredom. It wasn't until the door open and she saw her Papa that she was finally excited. "Papa!" She wiggled desperately in John's arms, squealing when she was set on the ground. She sprinted to Sherlock, her bright pink skirt ruffling with her movements. "Papa!" The moment she reached him she wrapped her arms tightly around her Papa's legs, closing her eyes.

John followed her slowly, weaving through the children at the party to reach his husband. "Hey," he muttered as he leaned forward and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. "Got your present, then?"

Amy's head shot up at that. "Present?"

"There she is! The Birthday Girl!" Sherlock smiled and knelt down to pick her up. "Of course I got you a present Baby Girl. Don't you want to play games and eat cake, before opening presents?" He grinned because he already knew the answer. Hell, he was certain he didn't even know any of these children here except for Siger and Thomas. When had his daughter met some many other toddlers? Or were the other children here because anyone with any social standing never turned down an invitation to the Holmes manor? He finally looked to John and smiled. "Hey Love, how are you feeling?" He had noticed the unenthusiastic greeting and finally got around to addressing it.

Amy inspected the wrapped box curiously, clearly trying to figure out what sort of present she would be getting. "Dada saided that I has to wait to open presents from the family 'til tonight when Gramma is out of the hospital," she declared with a sure nod before looking at the massive table full of presents from everybody at the party. "But we had to waits for you to open those presents. And now you's here!" She grinned as she bounced slightly in Sherlock's arms.

"Sore," John replied with a soft laugh and a smile. He eyed the box with his own curiosity. "But good. Better now that you are here." One hand moved to rest on his husband's lower back for a moment as the cake was starting to be prepared with three large candles.

"Papa," Amy muttered as she wiggled in Sherlock's arms. "Papa, down. Cake. I want cake," she declared with a pout as her blue eyes locked intently on her father.

Sherlock smiled, kissed little Sandi on the head and then put her down so she could run over to the cake. He handed the present off to Charlie, to put with the other presents from the family. "Guess it is time for cake." He smiled at John and moved to help his husband to where all the children were gathered around excitedly at the prospect of getting to eat cake and ice cream.

John chuckled and watched their daughter, leaning against Sherlock and resting his head on his husband's shoulder. "It's chocolate, her favorite. Got puppies all over because she really likes them," he said with a laugh as his arm wrapped around Sherlock's lower back. "Three years old. Before we know it she is going to be running off to Uni," he whispered. God, what a thought. He cleared his throat and watched as one of the manor servants lit the candles. Without a second thought, John moved forward and picked little Amy up as the group of kids sang to her. By the end of the song she was wiggling with excitement. "All right baby, blow out the candles and make a wish." She closed her eyes, puffed her cheeks out, and then huffed eagerly at the candles. Everybody clapped and she blushed, turning into John's chest to hide her face.

Sherlock smiled as he watched their daughter. God, what was he going to do when Amy was all grown up? It would be so quiet in the flat. He blinked when heard a lot of clapping. He smiled again. "Baby Girl, what did you wish for?" He grinned as he set a plate of cake at the chair she would be sitting at.

Amy glanced at her Papa from John's chest, shaking her head the best she could manage. "Can't tell you, silly Papa! Den it won't come true!" She grinned a bit as John set her down her chair and children surrounded her, leaving John and Sherlock to stand and wait patiently for the family party later that evening.

"Yeah Sherlock, then it won't come true," John whispered teasingly at his husband as he laughed.

Several young kids asked in exaggerated whispers what Amy wished about and she giggled. "A puppy," she whispered, glancing back at Sherlock and John to make sure they couldn't hear. "And a sister so I cans dress her up and make her look all pretty." Everybody around her giggled and started eating their cake and ice cream.

"How long until she no longer wants a sister? I am not up for that at all. What about you?" John glanced at Sherlock before wiping some of the icing on his husband's nose.

Sherlock looked over to John with raised eyebrows. "I don't know. Hopefully not too much longer. We have got our hands full with two children." He honestly didn't want a third one. He didn't want to say it, but he thought that might be too much. They were struggling as it was. "How long until she doesn't want us at her parties or around period?" The thought made him frown. There was a part of him that didn't want little Sandi to ever grow up.

"Never," John said with a smirk as he stood on his toes and, after double checking to make sure all the children were focused on the food, licked the icing from Sherlock's nose. "She will always want us around. Don't be so negative," he whispered as he took a bite of cake and looked down at the back of Amy's head. "She's three, for Christ's sake. We have got more time with her and I am sure when she goes to Uni she will come back all the time." He looked back up at his husband and bit his bottom lip. "Maybe when she leaves you and Irene could just give us another little girl?" He joked as he gently elbowed Sherlock's side with a chuckle.

Sherlock was eating a small slice of cake and he spit back all over his plate at John's words. "W-what?" Why did his husband always bring that up? Christ. Did John really want another kid? And why was it always with Irene? He cleared his throat, hoping none of the children had been paying attention to see what had just happened.

"Oi, I was joking," John whispered as he turned his back to the kids and stood directly in front of Sherlock. "Joke. You know, things that aren't serious." He lifted a hand to remove some of the crumbs from Sherlock's bottom lip. "I won't joke about it anymore, all right? The last thing I want to do is upset you." He set his plate to the side and moved a hand gently on top of his husband's stomach. "Sorry." After a sheepish smile he stood on his toes and gave Sherlock a quick kiss.

Sherlock returned the brief kiss and then nodded slowly. "You have mentioned it on more than one occasion. The thought isn't even remotely appealing to me." He shrugged a bit. "It is fine Love. I knew you hadn't been serious, just caught me unawares is all." He smiled reassuringly and gave his husband another quick kiss.

"Ew!" Amy stood on her chair, back to the table and hands on her hips, as she studied her parents. "My party has no kisses! No!" She stomped her foot with a pout, causing John to look up at Sherlock with a small laugh. She gave them a very pointed glare before turning around and sitting back down, eating her cake again.

"Well excuse us," John whispered as he laughed again, a small blush spreading across his cheeks. "Apparently we aren't supposed to love each other at all. I was thinking we could stay here tonight." He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Thomas said something about wanting to stay with Lestrade. I don't want to upset him."

Sherlock smirked at little Sandi bemusedly before looking back down at John. He leaned down to whisper in his husband's ear. "You just want an excuse to sleep with me tonight." He stood his full height again, smirking at John. He was supposed to stay here because of the media anyway. No reason his family couldn't either. Hopefully his drug addiction would lose its appeal soon. Then those vultures could go annoy someone else.

John smirked and studied Sherlock intently, looking around the room for a moment. The kids were all still focused intently on the food. "I just wanted to snuggle against you," he whispered with a small blush at the admission. "I want to fall asleep with your heartbeat under my ear. Can I?" Had Sherlock expected sex? Shit, he hoped he hadn't let his husband down. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "I mean...unless you want to make love. We can do that, too."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "John, just because we are in the same bed together doesn't mean we have to shag. If something happens, then it just will. If it doesn't…" He trailed off with a shrug. Ever since he had come home from prison his husband had been…edgy around the sex issue. He felt like maybe John was just complying, rather than actually wanting to do anything. Were they just shagging because his husband wanted to make him happy? He frowned at his thoughts.

Oh. Had he ruined everything? John tensed slightly and cleared his throat, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "I know but if you wanted to...I mean, I was going to shag you if you wanted but-" Right. Maybe he should just try to stop talking now. "Of course we can just sleep together. I just really like sleeping next to you. You are like a damn furnace and I have no idea how you stay so warm...and your heartbeat is so steady." He swallowed hard and reached a hand out to gently grab his husband's. "Sorry. I didn't..."

Sherlock glanced down at John and then around at all the children. It looked like it was almost time for presents. Now probably wasn't the best time to have this conversation. "We can talk about it later." He gave his husband's hand a slight squeeze, let it go and walked around John to the table. He wasn't going to ruin his daughter's birthday damn it.

John stood still for a long time, his back to the party. God, he had ruined Sherlock's day, hadn't he? He was such an idiot. He let his eyes close for a long moment before taking a deep breath and turning around. Amy's birthday which never was a good day for him anyway. Sure, his daughter was older but...Sarah wasn't here to see it.

"Papa! Presents," Amy stated as she slid out of her chair and clambered over to Sherlock. "Can I's open presents please? Wants them!" She jumped up and down slightly before looking around and motioning for Sherlock to bend down. "I wants to ask you a question," she whispered loudly.

"Of course you can Baby Girl!" Sherlock smiled down at little Sandi and then bent down so she could whisper in his ear. What could it be? It was difficult to guess with Amy. It could be something really serious or very silly. He was trying not to think about John right now. He had probably upset his husband just a few moments ago.

Amy took a deep breath and looked around before moving closer to Sherlock. "The other boys and girls says that their Mummy and Daddy gives them presents..." She paused and looked at Sherlock with confusion written across her face. "So...where is my Mummy?" Her blue eyes were nearly heartbroken, conveying emotion in a way that was very much like a Watson. It was a question that hadn't bugged her until today.

Oh God. How was he supposed to answer that? Lie? Tell the truth? Stall? Sherlock gnawed on his lip, a habit he had learned from John in a time of rare indecisiveness. "How about we talk about it later Baby Girl. Instead of telling you a bed time story, I will tell you about your Mum, all right?" Shit. Would John be okay with that? Was it really his place to say anything? "Now open some presents! The party must go on!" He managed a smile, hoping he would be able to skate by on this.

Amy looked up for a moment when John came to stand behind Sherlock. He had hear it all. Every word. Amy looked between the two of them and smiled. Presents. "Okay!" She nodded and stood on her toes, gently wrapping her arms around her Papa's neck. "Love you!" With that she pulled away and rushed toward the table that held presents from all of the kids at the party, leaving John and Sherlock to once against stand in the background.

"What do we tell her?" John asked softly, struggling to keep his voice even. They had both known the day was coming, that one day Amy would ask about Sarah. On her third birthday certainly wasn't when they had expected it.

Sherlock hadn't realized John had walked up, he had been too focused on little Sandi and the question. "What? Oh. I don't know Love. I don't want to lie to her, but I don't know if she is old enough to understand."

"Then don't lie," Thomas muttered as he looked up at his dads.

When had Thomas gotten there? Christ, the child could materialize out of nowhere sometimes. The boy was good at being quiet. Sherlock looked down at his son. "It is a bit complicated."

"She dead? Like my Mum?" Thomas looked up at his Daddy.

John felt his stomach drop and looked down at Thomas. "Yeah, Thomas," he said softly as he managed a bit of a smile. "Amy's Mum died when she was born." He looked back up at Amy as she eagerly started ripping her first present open.

"Look it!" Amy eagerly lifted up a sleeping bag with dogs all over it, the pillow a dog's head. "I loves it! Thanks Maddy!" She hugged a girl sitting next to her and continued on to another present.

"We probably shouldn't lie to her, Sherlock," John finally admitted with a bit of a frown.

Thomas nodded with a small frown and moved over to stand behind Amy's chair as he watched his sister unwrap the gifts.

Sherlock watched both of the children for a moment before looking to John. "Right." He had never really warmed up to Sarah, even when he had been with her during the pregnancy. He had done it for John. "We should tell her that her Mummy was so excited to meet her, but something bad happened and her Mum died?" Shit. Should they explain Sarah had been murdered? That Amy shouldn't have lived either? Fuck. Just thinking about that made him sick. He couldn't even begin to fathom what life would be without little Sandi.

"I am not lying to her like that," John replied immediately as he looked over at Sherlock. There was no way he could say that because Sarah had been so excited to see her daughter and that was taken from her. "I am not telling her Sarah was murdered. I'm telling her she died." God this was going to be horrible. His stomach twisted violently a just he thought. This was going to ruin their baby girl's birthday. "I want you there with me," he nearly demanded as he reached out a took Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock nodded. "Of course I will be there Love." He squeezed John's hand reassuringly. He wasn't ready for this conversation. It was too soon. Amy was still young. Innocent. The world would teach her cruel things all on its own and he wished h could protect little Sandi from it all. He loved her so much, sometimes it hurt. He hadn't realized the grip in his husband's hand was getting tighter with his thoughts.

John didn't say a thing about his hand because he knew. How could he ignore it? Amy was only three and nobody that young should ever have to hear that their Mum was dead. Especially not on their birthday. He squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit as he watched their daughter continue to open presents with an excitement that had literally been pulled from his body.

Amy eagerly opened her last present and, much to the surprise of the young children, it was yet another dog toy. This one was a massive Dalmatian stuffed animal, bigger than Amy, and she squealed at the sight of it. "Thank you Jeremy!" She smiled a boy across the table from her and he waved back with a small smile.

"Oi," John muttered instantly, narrowing his eyes and looking at the boy. He didn't like that sort of attention at all.

Sherlock was trying to concentrate on little Sandi opening presents but it was difficult. He arched a brow at the young boy and couldn't help but smirk down at John. "Oh come on Love, at that age it is cute. You can worry about beating off suitors when she gets older. Assuming, Thomas doesn't beat you to it. I think he is going to be one of those over protective older brothers." He smirked at his husband again.

"I don't want anybody waving at her like that," John muttered defensively as he squeezed Sherlock's hand for a moment. It wouldn't do any good to beat a three year old up for looking at their daughter like that. "He is probably only thinking about one thing. Kissing her or something." He narrowed his eyes and glanced up at his husband, biting his bottom lip. "None of that is cute. Ever," a pause while a small smile tugged at his lips, "Unless you do it."

Sherlock gave a small chuckle. "He is three John. He probably just wants to hold hands and play in the sand box. It is fine Love." He gave his husband a kiss on the head and another reassuring squeeze of the hand. Surely a small child wouldn't be looking for anything else other than some gigging and hand holding.

Sod it. A three year old was not going to look at his daughter like that. "He is not touching her or going anywhere near a bloody sandbox that she is in," John muttered as he finally let himself lean slightly to the side and relax against his husband's body. How could Sherlock not want to take the boy and throw him out of the manor? Possibly because he was sensible and not acting like some sort of over-protective father that Amy would end up hating. "If he touches her hand I am throwing him out."

Sherlock grinned and shook his head a bit. There was no use arguing with John right now. At least they were talking and thinking about something else at the moment. He leaned into his husband a bit, enjoying the closeness with John. He always did. "I love you." He smiled and squeezed his husband's hand again.

Sherlock's closeness and words distracted John instantly. He looked up at his husband and smiled warmly. Apparently their earlier conversation had been forgotten. "I love you too," he whispered as a kept his gaze locked intently on Sherlock. "Tonight I want to sleep in the same bed as you and fall asleep with my head on your chest." Fixed, right? They had to be fine now.

"Jeremy!" Amy giggled as the little boy leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. That made John squeeze Sherlock's hand as tight as he could.

"That sounds wonderful my dear doctor." Sherlock squeezed John's hand back. "Easy Love. Everything is fine. No worries." He released his husband's hand and brought up to the base of John's neck. It was tense, so he began to massage lightly in hopes of helping relax the muscles.

John relaxed marginally and glanced at his husband for a quick moment. "He kissed her. Not fine," he whispered softly as he continued to relax into Sherlock as the massage relieved the tension in his muscles. It was hard to stay upset when his husband was touching him in such a wonderful way. His eyes slipped shut and he practically went limp against Sherlock's side. For a while he could let some boy touching Amy pass if it meant having Sherlock touch him.

Sherlock smirked, kissing the top of John's head again. He continued to massage his husband's neck, noticing that John was relaxing. Good. Next time probably won't be so easy to calm his husband down. Should he be worried like John was? He could understand when little Sandi got older but now? Maybe he just wasn't as a good as a father as his husband. With everything going on lately, he certainly wouldn't be winning any awards for it.

John opened an eye for a long moment to study the party happening in front of him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get so tense..." He bit his bottom lip and yawned. It was too early to feel tired, especially with another party later in the evening, but his husband certainly was helping him relax. "I don't want anybody but us touching her. She is ours and it's just...too soon." He looked up at Sherlock for a long moment.

"Papa, Dada," Amy stood in front of them, one of her stuffed animals wrapped tightly in her arms. "Peoples are leaving so's 'nother party?" She grinned as several parents walked by, thanking John and Sherlock and leading their kids away. "More presents! Can we's open more presents?"


	23. Chapter 23

Sherlock smiled down at John and was about to reply when their daughter came up to them. He glanced to little Sandi, still smiling. "Once Grandma arrives with Uncle Mycroft. Aunty Harry has to be here too. Soon though Baby Girl, okay? Why don't you play with your new toys with Siger and Thomas for a little while?"

Amy studied her parents for a long moment before tightening her grip on the stuffed dog. "Is you guys gonna go do those weird kisses?" She asked curiously. "The ones that makes you guys wrestle?"

John nearly choked on the air in his lungs at that statement, eyes wide as he looked down at their daughter. "Playtime, Amy. Go play with Thomas and Siger," he stuttered out as he tried to control his thoughts. Amy scampered off and found her brother and cousin before John could properly breathe.

Sherlock had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Once she was out of ear shot he let out a quiet chuckle. "See? Smart daughter we have there." He smirked down at John and the hand on the back of his husband's neck moved down and smacked John's arse. His smirk got bigger.

"Sherlock!" John's wide gaze turned intently on his husband. "You are going to give her ideas," he whispered as his own hand move to squeeze Sherlock's arse. He couldn't help the slight smile on his face as he watched Amy run around eagerly with Siger, both of them with massive stuffed dogs. "Earlier...when we talked..." He swallowed at that and couldn't help the slight smile on his lips. "You said that if we ended up making love tonight that it would just...happen. I have always wanted to hear you say that." He stood on his toes to give Sherlock a slow kiss.

Right that. Sherlock returned the kiss briefly. "When I said that, I meant it. I just...don't want you to feel like you _have_ to shag me just because I want to or suggest it." He gave a slight shrug, a thoughtful frown on his lips. "If you just want to sleep cuddled up next to me, that is fine. We don't have to shag all the time you know. Although if we did, I wouldn't object either." He smirked at his husband.

"Both are very wonderful," John stated with a small nod of his head as he bumped his hip against Sherlock's. "But tonight I just want to sleep curled against. I have decided that the sound of your heartbeat is the one thing that will make me tired tonight." And it was true because now he had the idea in his head and couldn't think of anything better to fall asleep to. If they just happened to start kissing and it led to snogging which led to a slow shag...well, John certainly wouldn't complain. "I imagine Amy will need a nap before your Mum and Mycroft shows up. She is going to hit a wall here pretty soon and I imagine we will have cranky Amy on our hands."

Sherlock nodded a bit, feeling like John had missed his point but he wasn't going to say anything. With their luck it would start a fight. "Yes, nap time would be good for her before they get here. Probably a good time for Siger too. Lestrade is helping Charlie clean up, I believe." He smiled and kissed his husband on the head before he moved towards the children.

Amy turned sharply on her feet, looking up intently at her Papa. "You's making me take a nap, yeah?" She hugged her stuffed dog as Siger walked toward her and smiled up at his Uncle.

"Oi, don't wanna sleep." Siger smirked because he knew how much he sounded like Greg, much to the chagrin of Mycroft.

"Tough. Sleep time." John moved into the conversation and picked Siger up, the little boy groaning. No use fighting it. "C'mon birthday girl, nap time." He smiled at Sherlock as he headed upstairs toward Siger's room, opening the door to Amy's guest room for Sherlock behind him.

"Not wanting to sleep, Uncle John," Siger declared with a yawn as John put him in his bed, the little boy quickly falling off to sleep. John smiled as he left the room, shutting the door quietly and looking for Sherlock. They had a bit of time alone and he couldn't help himself but he wanted to be close to his husband.

Sherlock smirked at the children with a slight shake of his head. He picked up Amy and took her to the guest room for the children. "Nap time and then when you wake up it will be time for another party." He kissed her forehead as he put her into the bed. He made sure little Sandi was asleep before leaving the room quietly. He found John easily and grinned at his husband. "What would you like to do in the meantime, Love?"

John moved slowly toward Sherlock, shrugging a bit as he wrapped his arms slowly around his husband's waist. "Up to you, dear," he whispered with a small smile. Being this close to Sherlock made his cheeks turn a slight red. "We could talk? I like just laying in bed with you and talking." He pressed his nose into the bottom of Sherlock's neck and exhaled shakily.

Sherlock smiled and returned the hug, rather content to just hold John in his arms. After awhile he finally released his husband and then took John by the hand. "Let's go lay and talk then. Anything you want to talk about? Or just whatever?" He led his husband toward the bedroom they shared when visiting the manor.

The moment Sherlock pulled away John shivered, missing the warmth that his husband seemed to constantly radiate. "I don't care," he whispered as he stopped next to the bed and shrugged. "I just want to hear your voice. I want to rest my head on your chest and listen to you talk about...anything at all. Whatever you want." He smiled and gently met Sherlock's lips, letting the kiss stay slow so nothing too heated would come to mind for either of them.

Sherlock sat down next to John and returned the kiss, matching the pace of his husband's. He wrapped his arms around John once more, already missing having his husband in his arms. He shifted slightly so he could straddle John. He wanted to have better access to kissing his husband and keeping John in a hug. It was times like these, he couldn't get enough of being close to his husband.

It wasn't what John had planned when going into their guest bedroom but he wasn't going to say anything. Kissing Sherlock felt wonderful and having the man above him was something he constantly craved. Sometimes he understood that Sherlock just needed to be close to him and, God, did he ever return those feelings. He wanted to stay close to Sherlock for the rest of his life, wanted to constantly stay snuggled against his husband's side. He took a deep breath in through his nose and moaned softly.

When John moaned, Sherlock couldn't help but make the kiss a little more aggressive. Just that one sound was able to turn him on. It was like their honeymoon all over again. He had just got done saying they didn't need to shag all the time, but now… Just kissing. John didn't want to shag probably. He continued the kiss, finally breathing out through his nose loudly.

The aggressiveness had caught John off guard and he moaned again, moving a hand to wrap tightly into Sherlock's shirt at his lower back. It was too good, he couldn't stay quiet or quit moving. His husband knew exactly what to do to push all the right buttons. Was this one of those 'just going to happen' things that Sherlock had talked about earlier? Or was John reading everything all wrong? His mouth faltered slightly and the kiss got sloppy.

It was hard to ignore the growing erection now. The way he was straddling John, Sherlock found it unlikely it would go unnoticed by his husband. He hadn't meant for it to happen, but God John was moaning and he had found it extremely arousing. He continued to breathe loudly through his nose, fast bursts of hot air being expelled onto his husband's chin and neck. He growled slightly, nipping John's bottom lip before his tongue went inside his husband's mouth.

That was Sherlock's erection pressed against his stomach and...God, what did John do? He was still sore from the previous night and certainly couldn't do anything for Sherlock that way. Why not...He rotated at his hips and turned them both, pinning his husband against the mattress with a small growl. Sherlock liked it when he was aggressive, right? Maybe that would help. He pulled away from the kiss with a gasp as his hands moved to frantically start undoing his husband's trousers, his lips parted as he panted for breath. "God, you are so hard," he muttered as he kept his focus on the zipper of Sherlock's pants.

Oh God yes. When was the last time John had been aggressive like this? Sherlock tried not to squirm as his husband began to remove his trousers, but it was difficult. He was extremely turned on right now. "S-sorry," he finally muttered. "Just happened," he admitted quietly. It hadn't been his intention but he supposed he should have known better really. Did this mean John was going to assert control the whole time? He really wanted that right _now_ he realized.

"Fine. 'S fine," John whispered as he finally undid Sherlock's trousers, yanking them down with his husband's pants. He looked up at Sherlock with a smile, one hand moving to wrap around his partner's erection, moving slowly. "I am too sore to do anything and I want this to be for you," he muttered as he shifted on the bed to situation himself between Sherlock's legs. "All for you." After a cocky grin in his husband's direction he took Sherlock into his mouth, taking as much as he could before he gag and gently pulled back.

Sherlock moaned as soon as he felt John's mouth on him. Not exactly what he had in mind but who was he to argue if his husband wanted to give him a blow job? His eyes closed, trying hard not to buck up into John. He moaned again, loving the feeling of his husband's mouth. From time to time, his hips would lift without him meaning to.

John moved a hand to roughly pin down Sherlock's hip, his mouth moving away from his husband's erection with a small cough. "No moving," he growled with the best glare he could manage. "I am in control and you _don't_ move." He moved his mouth to bit down gently in the inside of Sherlock's thigh, hard enough to certainly leave a mark. After several seconds he pulled away, glancing up at Sherlock before moving his mouth back over his husband's cock and bobbing his head.

Oh this was turning out more wonderful than Sherlock could have hoped for. He complied with John's demand with a small whimper from the bite. That shouldn't feel as wonderful as it did. "Yes S-sir," he managed to get out. His husband was in control and telling him what to do and sucking him off. He moaned again, eyes remaining closed, and fingers tangling in the sheets below him.

John eyed one of his husband's hands before lifting his head again. "Hands in my hair," he demanded smoothly as his sure gaze studied Sherlock intently. "You can pull it but don't push my head down." When had ordering Sherlock around become so much fun? At least his husband seemed to enjoy it. He cleared his throat and moved his mouth to take the tip of Sherlock's penis into his mouth, sucking softly. Now he was just teasing Sherlock and he couldn't help himself.

Sherlock opened his eyes and smirked down a John. He complied though, finding strands long enough for him to pull. He whimpered, forcing his hips to stay still. "Fucking tease," he muttered even though it was clear he was enjoying it. Being a little lippy would result in something he supposed, hoped really.

John pulled away from Sherlock's erection with a growl, moving to the other thigh and biting down roughly on the inside of it only a few inches from his husband's cock. Talking back had made his body tense and he knew from the moment Sherlock opened his mouth that his husband was really in control. Sherlock was always in control. He pulled his mouth away with a proud smirk, looking up at his husband dangerously. "Watch your mouth," he hissed as he grabbed Sherlock's cock with his left hand and squeezed it tightly, hopefully enough to hurt.

Sherlock had to bite down on his lower lip to stop the shout of pain and surprise. Christ. Being rough was one thing but intentionally hurting? "Sorry," he muttered. He pulled weakly at John's hair, trying not to lose interest now. It would just upset his husband and John would apologize and fawn all over him which he really didn't want.

The look on Sherlock's face...he had seen it before on men in the field. Pain. Pain _he_ was causing. John jumped back instantly to the foot of the bed, lips parted as he studied his husband. He had just hurt him. Intentionally hurt him without even thinking about it. Oh God. He curled his body into a ball, grateful he was still fully clothed, and kept his wide eyes locked on Sherlock. The two bite marks were visible against his husband's pale skin and then...he had grabbed Sherlock to hurt him. It had been done without a second thought. Fuck. "I..." No more words. His throat was dry and he was frozen in his spot.

Damn it. John had noticed. He had tried to hide it but it had _hurt_. "I'm fine." Sherlock was surprised at the sound of his own voice. It was bit higher than usual. Fuck. His cock was throbbing right now and not in the good way. The bite marks he wasn't worried about and barely registered. Moving was mistake, but he forced himself to do it anyway so he could be closer to his husband. He laid his head near John's stomach.

High pitched voice. Damn it, John had caused some sort of damage. Did he move to help and see exactly what he had done? "'S not fine," he muttered as he moved. "Going to look at you, 'kay?" His voice was still low, eyes cast down so he didn't have to look at Sherlock. He was embarrassed and upset at himself. He had done something for Sherlock by being dominant and it backfired. Horribly. After a bit of inspection be sat back. "You might be sore for a day or so. Kind of like a bruise." He cleared his throat and chanced a look at his husband. "Didn't mean to..." He was an idiot.

Sherlock gave a slight nod. He decided laying still was for the best. He tried to think about something else, just so he could focus on something other than the pain. At this rate he wasn't sure he was going to be up for the second birthday party. He just wanted to lay on this bed and do absolutely nothing for awhile. He cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he repeated his voice rougher than usual as he tried to compensate.

"No you aren't," John snapped, eyes narrowed as he looked at Sherlock. "You're not so stop saying you are. I fucking hurt you and I don't know why." His entire body tensed as he hugged his legs closer to his chest. "I hurt you," he repeated quietly to himself. What in the world had he done? It had been a game, something that Sherlock had been enjoying...and he'd hurt his husband. And it wasn't the first time. In Afghanistan, in the posh hotel, he had done the same thing. It scared him.

Sherlock frowned and decided just to be quiet. John was upset. Even with him it would seem. He sighed, eyes closing as he continued to try and think of anything else at all. If he thought he was able to do so, he would just leave the room and go be by himself. Instead, he just stayed stretched out on the bed. He was still in pain but what hurt more was how brusque his husband was being. He would much rather be fussed over and comforted than this.

Every muscle in his body was telling him to get up and walk away, to go and be by himself and think about everything he had just done. But Sherlock needed him. Leaving would make John irresponsible. He closed his eyes pressed his forehead against his arms with a small groan before slowly moving closer to his husband. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly as he moved to lay beside Sherlock, cradling the man's head against his chest. "God, Sherlock, I am sorry."

Sherlock relaxed into John immediately, just his husband's touch was able to calm him. He turned his head so he could nuzzle into John's shoulder. He reached for his husband's hand, intertwined their fingers and gave it a small squeeze. "It is fine Love. It was an accident." He tilted his head up and kissed John on the neck lightly. At least his voice seemed to be fine now, but he was still in pain. No shagging for awhile, that was for sure.

It wasn't an accident, though. The thought to hurt Sherlock had gone through his mind and he had...just done it. John had acted on impulse to purposely hurt his husband. How was that an accident? And none of it was fine. Not one thing about their situation was fine. If he said that, though...then they wouldn't get anywhere. They might argue, get upset but it would never lead to anything good. "Okay," he whispered brokenly, giving in and not speaking his mind. Instead he pulled Sherlock tighter against him, eyes wide as he tried to calm himself down.

Sherlock wanted to curl into John for more contact and comfort but he was afraid doing so would result in agitating an already tender area. He had wanted to see little Sandi open the present he bought, but now he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get out of the bed until the next day. Was he just being a baby about this?

It was never awkward talking to a patient about things like this but now, with Sherlock and especially because _he_ caused the pain, John couldn't help but blush. "Once your erection goes away you won't be in as much pain, trust me." He had had experience, he knew what he was talking about. "You will be able to walk just fine, might hurt to piss for a day and any erection you get won't be very pleasant," he muttered as he cleared his throat. "We have got about an hour so you should be fine once you're hard on disappears. Want me to get a cold shower going for you?"

"Just thought it would go away by now, since I am not the least bit aroused." Sherlock frowned. He just wanted to stay cuddled next to John on the bed but maybe a cold shower would help. "Yes, please. That would be good." He thought about asking his husband to join him, except he didn't want John to have to endure cold water spraying down.

"Right." John smiled and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's temple, standing up and kicking his shoes off as he started to unbutton his shirt. "Let me just..." He captured his bottom lip between his teeth as he tossed his shirt on the floor, his trousers and pants following as fast as he can manage. "C'mon then..." He turned and picked his husband up, easily pulling Sherlock's shirt off as they got closer to the bathroom. "We can just sit, I am not going to make you stand but...give it a minute, maybe two, and you will be feeling a bit better." A forced smile tugged at his lips and he sat them down in the shower, Sherlock's back resting on his chest. Thank God Nancy had one of those fancy shower, one with little buttons nearly everywhere. It was like she knew they were going to shag in every possible corner. He snorted slightly at that and turned the shower on, the water so cold that he jumped almost instantly and started shivering, his teeth knocking together as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

Oh well, that hadn't been what Sherlock was expecting. "You don't have to stay," he managed to get out without stuttering through chattering teeth. God, the water was cold. He instinctively curled into John for warmth even though they were both cold from the frigid spray. After a few minutes his erection disappeared and the pain gradually dissipated as well.

Of course John had to stay. He had no choice. He had put Sherlock in pain and he wasn't going to just make him sit in a cold shower alone. The moment he was sure that Sherlock wasn't in pain, he touched a button and the water gradually warmed, something John was thankful for. He turned toward his husband with a weak smile, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. "Going to stay," he whispered softly as he dropped his mouth to give Sherlock a gentle kiss.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. The warm water felt nice but it prickled his skin for a moment until his body heat began to acclimate to the new temperature on and around them. "I love you. You are amazing and I am lucky to have you as my husband. I feel like I don't tell you that enough. Show you enough." He lifted his head to give John another kiss.

John smiled the best he could managed. Not the best husband and that was why Sherlock rarely showed it. Best not to upset his husband. He returned the kiss slowly before pulling away. " I'm luckier. I get to wake up to you against my side every morning, not everybody can say that," he said over the spray of the water, his voice a bit louder than he would have liked. "But I love you, too...and I'm sorry."

Sherlock wasn't sure how his husband considered himself luckier. John was married to a drug addict who had recently used when their children were present. He sighed at his thoughts, frowning a bit. "It is fine. No worries. We all make mistakes." He had certainly made enough of them lately. He really was lucky to have John. Who else would put with his stupid, childish ways?

"Yeah, but I probably shouldn't be making mistakes like that," John whispered softly as the water shut off. Now he didn't want to move, wanted to sit with Sherlock in the shower while they were dripping wet. "I just don't know what happened...I just did it and then..." He cleared his throat and placed a soft kiss on his husband's temple. "I won't do it again. I won't ever hurt you again."

"And I shouldn't have made the mistake and started using cocaine again." Sherlock sighed, frowning. No matter what John said or did, what he had done would always be worse and that was why he would forgive his husband no matter what. John had stood by him through this; he owed his husband at least that.

John studied his husband intently, mouth slightly ajar. "I don't completely blame you, Sherlock. I take some of that blame," he admitted softly. And it was true because how could he not? The stress of family, of a child that was illegitimate and a husband that was constantly bothering him to come home probably hadn't been helpful. "And I am always going to be here for you. Always."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise at that but didn't comment on it. They were still sitting in the shower damp. Despite sharing warmth with John by snuggling into his husband he was getting chilly again. He shivered a bit before standing slowly. He stepped out onto the floor, grabbing two towels and handed one to John before wrapping the other one around himself.

John sat in the shower for a long moment before grabbing the towel and slowly standing up. He wrapped it around his hips, letting it hang low as he studied his husband. "I love you," he whispered as he moved forward and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. There wasn't much else he could do and before long Nancy would be back, Amy would be awake, and he would have to live with the fact that he hurt his husband in the most personal way, in a way that had probably ruined sex for them. He moved out of the bathroom and studied his clothes for a long moment, deciding to ignore them as he moved to sit on the bed instead.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John. He sat down next to his husband and took his partner's hand. "I love you too." He squeezed John's hand and leaned over to give his husband a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on now my dear doctor, we have a party to get to." What could he do to make John feel better? He didn't like seeing his husband like this.

"Do I ever scare you?" John completely ignored Sherlock's words in favor of studying his husband and waiting for an answer. "The things I do...Sherlock, I have done that twice before now and I don't know why. Does it ever scare you?" The breath he took was shaky, clearly nervous. Now all he could do was think about how horrible he felt and about what he'd done. The last thing he wanted to do was go out and face Sherlock's family.

The frown returned at John's inquiry. Sherlock shook his head. "No my Love." And it was true, it wasn't even something he had thought twice about. "John, I know there is a rage inside of you and sometimes I just push you a little too far. Anything that has happened is because I provoke you into it. I still love you, no matter what. Just like you still put up with me despite all the recent happenings. I know I go around saying I am amazing and perfect all the time, but I'm not. Neither of you. That is why we need each other. We are two broken halves that make a whole. Together, we _are_ perfect."

If that wasn't exactly what John needed to hear than he wasn't sure what would be. He grinned and leaned to the side, resting his head against his husband's shoulder. "Or at lest we try to be perfect," he whispered with a soft chuckle, reaching a hand out to gently massage Sherlock's thigh. He was careful to avoid the very obvious bite marks he'd left. "Sorry 'bout those," he added as an afterthought, glancing nervously at his husband. "I got...excited."

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "I will have to make you _excited_ more often then." He wanted to straddle John and shag his husband now, except that probably wasn't the best of ideas right now. "Can't wait until I can come home and I get to shag you into the window. The video on, so we can watch it later together. Hear how we make each other scream and moan." At this rate he was going to turn himself on but he couldn't help himself. He leaned over and began sucking on John's neck.

John opened his mouth to respond but then Sherlock's mouth was on his neck. His husband had liked the biting? Even at such a sensitive area? The thoughts mixed with Sherlock's mouth made him moan softly. Christ, the window and Sherlock wanted to video tape it. Watch it later. His hands curled tightly into the blankets and he let his head fall back to expose more of his neck. "Y-Yeah."

Sherlock smirked, pleased. He kissed, bit, and sucked his way up to John's ear. It was his favorite place to tease his husband, his tongue running along the full length before he began nibbling on it lightly. "I will have you pressed against the glass, and all of London will see you and be jealous that you are all mine. I'll take you from behind like in the plane and in the alley. I will jerk you off at the same time." He really couldn't stop himself right now, as he whispered into the ear he was gnawing on gently. His erection was returning and it wasn't as painful as before just sensitive. The towel was covering it, so maybe John wouldn't notice.

John's hips lifted slightly off the bed without him thinking, another moan slipping from his mouth. God, everybody would see them. They would have to do it at night, less of a risk of the police being called. His hips lifted off the bed again and he gasped, slamming his eyes shut to focus on the feeling of Sherlock's mouth, of the sound that had turned him on faster than he ever thought possible. "Good. Ah, Go- nngh..." He bit down roughly on his bottom lip.

"Will you shag me tonight? Hard and rough? Love when you are in control my dear doctor." Maybe if John would shag him with authority, his husband would get his confidence back. And frankly, Sherlock found the prospect very exciting as was apparent by his hard on.

Thomas came in and rolled his eyes. "Don't you two ever give it a rest?" he muttered. "Uncle Mycroft sent me to get you. Grandma's here. Amy and Siger will probably be up from their naps soon."

Sherlock looked towards their son. "Maybe you should knock next time." He gave a slight smirk and raised his eyebrows.

Thomas shrugged. "Just…get dressed before you come downstairs…" He left the room to go help set up for the second party.

John had opened his mouth to reply, to eagerly accept the offer, but the door opened. Jesus. His hands dropped instantly to cover himself despite the towel and watched Thomas with wide eyes. "We _do_ give it a rest," he replied weakly despite the fact that the door had been closed. "You just always catch us," he added much like a child as he stood up, letting the towel fall to the ground without a second thought. "Knock," he muttered to himself as he slipped his boxers on, looking back at Sherlock for a long moment. "I want to try something tonight," he whispered with a blush, choosing to put his jeans on instead of watching his husband.

"We should start locking the door," Sherlock muttered more to himself than to John. When he stood up, the towel fell and revealed his erection. He turned away from his husband swiftly and tried to get dressed quickly, but ended up doing a lot of hopping around the room trying to get his legs through the trousers first. He glanced over to John with a smirk. "Oh? Do I get to know what it is or is it a surprise?"

It was hard not to miss Sherlock's erection and a small blush spread across John's cheeks. Had he done that? Just the talking and kissing his neck? It always surprised him when he saw how much of an impact he had on his husband. "Can't hide that from me," he whispered as he watched Sherlock bounce around a bit. "You have a nice dick, don't hide it." He moved over to help finish pulling his husband's trousers up, a bit of a smirk on his face. "I don't know yet. The height difference might hurt us a bit this time around."

Sherlock smirked back, as John helped him finish getting his pants on. "I could get on my knees for it? Depending on what you had in mind on whether or not that would be helpful." He smirked at down at his husband once more. "I don't mind getting on my knees for you." Surprisingly it hadn't been something he had done often. The only time he could recall was in the bathroom stall where he had sucked John off.

John couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head. "As wonderful as you on your knees in front of me sounds," the bathroom stall, God, "I have had this idea for nearly a year and been too afraid to bring it up because of your height. If we did it the other way, you shagging me, it would be fine." But damn his parents and the genetics they handed down to him and not Harry. She was taller than all of them for some reason. "Want you bent over the bed," he finally whispered, running a hand down the center of his husband's bare stomach. "Face smashed into the blankets, me standing behind you." He looked up at Sherlock and chuckle. "But I don't think I can reach."

Sherlock furrowed his brows in thought, but he couldn't think of solution for the problem. There was no way he would be able to shag John either. Not for another day or two. "I am sure we can figure something out. Thought about something to stand on, but that wouldn't do because you could fall off or it would tip over…" He grabbed his shirt and began buttoning it into place.

John snorted at the image of him falling off of a little stool that he would need to use to shag his husband. "Maybe you shouldn't be so tall," he muttered with a laugh, reaching a hand out to run his hand over Sherlock's slightly-obvious erection. "I have got another idea," he whispered as he glanced at the door. "I'm strong enough to hold you. Want you against that door, legs wrapped around my hips." He pulled away with a proud smirk, slipping his own shirt on and buttoning it. "Think we could manage that?"

Sherlock gave a small whimper from the hand touching the bulge against his pants. He glanced up to John with a smirk. "Whatever you want to do Love. It is your night to do anything you want to." He moved over to his husband and took his hand. "If we take much longer, they are going to think we are shagging again." He smirked again and gave John a quick kiss on the lips. Not that he really cared what his family thought anyway.

"Last thing I want your Mum thinking is that," John whispered as he returned the quick kiss, opening the door and squeezing his husband's hand.


	24. Chapter 24

John hardly had time to think before Amy was attached to his leg.

"Dada! Presents!" Amy grinned up at both of them, squealing as John moved down to pick her up and rest her against his hip.

"All right, Baby Girl," John said with a laugh as he glanced back at Sherlock. "Tonight," he whispered as they started down the stairs and entered the living room.

"Welcome back," Mycroft said slowly, relaxed on the couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Lestrade tucked under his other arm. "Bit of a shock to Thomas, I assure you," he said proudly.

Sherlock smiled down at their daughter and it turned into a smirk when he glanced over at Mycroft. "As we already discussed with Thomas, it is polite to knock _first_ before entering."

Thomas rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Should have locked the door," he mumbled. He hadn't realized that was the same conclusion his Daddy had come to earlier.

"Boys! Behave!" Nancy glared at her two sons. She wouldn't admit it, but she was too tired to put up with their bickering right now. She was going to stay awake for her granddaughter's birthday, even if it killed her. Unfortunately, that could be very literal at her age. No need to worry the children. She smiled and clapped her hands together. "Now! I believe the birthday girl has some presents to open, doesn't she?"

"Right, before presents for Amy," John set their daughter down and she dashed for the presents regardless. "Greg and I talked and we got a present for Thomas." He glanced at the boy and with a smile as Greg came and stood next to him, holding a wrapped box in his hands. "We figured it wasn't fair for little miss Amy to have all the presents today so we pitched this in for you, mate." After glancing at Lestrade he handed the gift off. They all knew how much Thomas wanted to be like Sherlock and, somehow, had managed to find a jacket identical to Sherlock's in Thomas' size.

Amy stumbled with a large box in her hands, clearly Sherlock's present, and managed to get herself on to the couch beside Nancy. "Gramma." She looked up at Nancy and smiled, the box on her legs as she bounced impatiently, waiting for Thomas to open his gift.

Sherlock studied his mother with a frown but said no more to Mycroft. He glanced over at Thomas. The boy was staring at the present.

What had he done to deserve a present? His birthday wasn't for awhile now. Thomas frowned, figuring most children would be happy about it but he felt like he was taking away from his sister's special day. He opened the gift carefully and then box. He smiled at the jacket, hugged it close to his chest and muttered a thank you.

Nancy looked down at Amy. "Hi Sweetie."

"Of course," John whispered as he crouched down and pulled the boy into a hug, placing a loud kiss on his cheek. "All for you, my little boy," he added so nobody else could hear before standing up. "All right then, Amy!" He turned to look at the birthday girl with a grin, watching as she squirmed in her seat before starting to rip open Sherlock's present.

"'S big!" Amy commented as she peaked over the box to look at Sherlock and John, pausing momentarily before continuing. The moment she could see the box she froze, jaw hanging open before she screamed and slid off the couch. "Look it! Look it, Uncle 'Croft!" Mycroft laughed a bit and nodded at the toy. "Papa," she whispered in shock. "Papa, how did you know?" It was a picture of an orb, plants all over in the middle with fairies in the mix. "You's so smart," she declared as she abandoned the box in favor of clutching Sherlock's leg.

"Righto, we have got a gift for you, too Amy!" Lestrade said as he sat down next to Mycroft and pushed a small box forward. She turned and ran toward it quickly, her little dress lifting up in her mad dash.

Sherlock smiled, pleased. He hadn't known really. He had just wanted to get her something that _wasn't_ a dog, something different than what everyone else was getting her. It had reminded him of when he had taken little Sandi out the garden behind the manor when she was an infant and wouldn't sleep. He would go around pointing out plants. Maybe she would become interesting in horticulture, something he had given up at a young age but still secretly enjoyed.

Amy fell on to the floor with a thump, tearing open the present without a pause this time. She ripped the box open and Mycroft simply rolled his eyes at Lestrade's obvious excitement. She pulled out a Constable hat and popped it right on her head, holding the badge up with a giggle. "I's Uncle Greg," she declared proudly as she strutted around the living room in her silly hat.

John laughed and wrapped an arm gently around Sherlock's hips, leaning against him as he watched their daughter. "Two future Detective Inspectors in the family?" He asked with a small chuckle. Amy clearly seemed too excited with the current present to start opening the others for a bit.

Sherlock shouldn't be hurt that little Sandi seemed to like the gift from her Uncle's better. Was he just being selfish that he wanted Amy to like his gift the best? He glanced at John. "Yeah, guess so." He was just being a child, he told himself but it didn't make him feel any better about it.

John frowned a bit, knowing exactly what was wrong. He pulled Sherlock a little closer and watched Amy intently as she slowly lost interest in Lestrade's present and moved back toward Sherlock's. The box was simple to open and she looked up at her Papa, wiser than her years as she studied him.

"You's is the bestest, Papa," Amy said in an exaggerated whisper as she pulled the box open and yanked the two halves of the plastic orb from the box. The top of it was clear, the bottom half pink, and she grinned at the color. Hard as her parents might try, it was her favorite. She inspected it curiously, sitting down as she put the two halves together and glanced inside. "We's have to get plants, Papa. Can we go buy some plants?" She looked up at him eagerly and John smiled. It seemed that every Watson knew how to cheer up Sherlock. Except Harry who came in late, huffing with Clara at her side.

"Oi! Sorry," Harry laughed and walked in, hugging her brother. "Johnny! Brought Clara, we are talking again." She grinned down at Amy. "And Pipsqueak," she declared as she brushed past her niece and set a small present down the remaining few. "Sorry we're late. Losing track of time and all." She grinned as they sat down on the small couch opposite of Nancy, smiling warmly at Mycroft and Lestrade.

Sherlock was too busy smiling with pride at little Sandi, to really notice Harry or Clara coming in and sitting down. "It came with seeds Baby Girl. We will plant them later. According to the instructions the plants that grow are especially pleasing to fairies. When we get home to the flat I will show you everything. You still have other presents to open. Your aunts are here, make sure you say hello and thank them for coming." He leaned his head onto John's shoulder and intertwining their hands together. "I am glad she likes it," he whispered to his husband.

"Of course she likes it," John replied as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. "It's fairies. You practically cheated," he teased with a small laugh, watching as Amy stood to peak into the box that was nearly too tall for her, and squeal with glee as she found the seeds. She stared at them intently, then at the plastic orb, before looked up at her parents. "Amy, go say hi to Aunt Harry," he whispered with a wink.

"Oh..." Amy nodded and dropped the seeds back into the box, standing on her toes to do it, and scampering over to Harry. "Auntie!" She was picked up by Harry, given a hug, and she smiled warmly at Clara. She'd yet to warm up to the woman at her Aunt's side.

"Oi! Pipsqueak!" Harry laughed and lifted up her present from the floor, giving it to Amy as the little girl sat in her lap and started to rip it open. "I think you will like it," she said in a soft tone.

The moment the box was open Amy sat slack jawed, looking at the picture in front of her. "'S Dada and Papa," she whispered as she lifted the picture frame and stared at it in awe.

"That it is. This is when Dada and Papa got married, Amy," Harry said softly as she looked up at Sherlock and John. The picture was in black and white, the two of them not even looking at the camera, but instead smiling at each other. Amy held it close to her chest and closed her eyes.

John smiled as he remembered it, trying to cheer Sherlock up on a day that hadn't started too well for him. His heart skipped a beat and he turned to give Sherlock a slow kiss.

A picture as a present for a little girl? Well, little Sandi seemed to like it and he supposed that was all that really mattered in the end. Sherlock smiled into the kiss as he returned. "If Baby Girl catches us, we are going to get in trouble," he whispered behind the kiss but made no effort to end it.

John smirked and nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip. Of course they would get in trouble but it was worth it. Soft lips and warm breath...he couldn't help himself.

"Oi!" Amy glared at both of them, the picture still wrapped tightly in her arms and held against her chest. "No kissings at my party!" Her face set in determination and she set the picture back in the box, moving toward the pile of presents and grabbing Nancy's wrapped box. "Gramma? Can I's open your present now?" She walked over to Nancy with a grin, sliding up on to the couch.

John smirked at his husband and cleared his throat. Tonight. If he held out until tonight then he could kiss Sherlock as much as he wanted. "Yeah, Papa, no kissing at Amy's party."

Sherlock snorted at John and looked over to little Sandi curiously. He had asked his mother what she had gotten Amy but Nancy wouldn't tell him.

Nancy smiled down Amy. She had spent almost three months on making it. It was quilt, pink of course. It was lighter shade though, so the hand stitched puppies could be seen on it. There were different kinds of dogs in each square. On the bottom, centered was Amy's full name: 'Amy Sandoval Watson Holmes.' The squares on either side of her were blank. When Amy got older she was hoping to teach her granddaughter how to make quilts and what went in those boxes would be up to Amy later.

Amy returned the smile and eagerly ripped the paper off of the box, opening it and giggling at the sight. "Blankie," she whispered as she pulled it out and wiggled her legs to make the box fall on the ground. "Gramma, 's a blankie," she declared as she shoved her face into it and kicked her feet up and down. "An' 's got puppies all over it!" She curled into Nancy's side with a laugh and spread it out across her Grandma's lap as well as her own. "I loves it. Thank you, Gramma!" She moved to her feet, both hand's on Nancy's shoulder to balance herself, and placed a kiss on the woman's cheek.

John tensed for a moment when he studied their daughter's name, keeping his thoughts to himself. No need to bring up Sarah or the fact that her last name was supposed to be there. No fights. It would ruin the day. He squeezed Sherlock's hand for a moment, cleared his throat, and watched Amy climb from the couch to grab the present from him. God, he hoped she liked it.

Amy moved right back to Nancy's side, inspecting the box and glancing up at John. "Dada?" He nodded and she slowly started taking the wrapping paper off. His stomach twisted in knots because...everybody was here. God, would Sherlock hurt him? Hate him for what was about to be unwrapped? Amy looked confused, picked up a teddy bear and smiled at it, holding it close to her side before she looked up at John. "Who's dis?" She asked softly.

John swallowed hard and slowly pulled away from Sherlock, looking at everybody in the room before sitting down on the other side of Amy. "That's your Mummy," he whispered as he picked up the picture of Sarah, smiling at the camera with her hand on her stomach. It was the picture Sherlock had sent him while he'd been in Afghanistan. "And that little bump?" He pointed to Sarah's stomach. "That's you."

Sherlock frowned a bit as he read the blanket. Right. His mother didn't know that technically, Amy didn't have his last name. Little Sandi's birth certificate had John's and Sarah's name. Not _his_. Even though he was the one raising the little girl now. God, he was still jealous of Sarah after all this time. It took him a moment to realize what his husband had gotten their daughter. Oh. Well, if Amy hadn't been curious about her mother before she certainly would _now._ He wanted to leave the room. Escape and find something to make this all go away. _No_. He forced himself to say seated on the floor, but he stared intently at his lap.

Amy grabbed the picture with both of her hands and looked at it, tilting her head to the side. "She's pretty," she whispered as she moved to lean against John's side. "An' that's me?" Her little finger pointed to the obvious bump that was Sarah's stomach and John nodded. "Weird," she muttered.

"Yeah, that's you." John whispered as he grabbed the teddy bear. "And Mummy bought this for you, it was in your room so I wanted to give it to you." He smiled and placed a kiss on their daughter's head before he glanced at Sherlock. He was tense, looking down. Fuck, he had messed up. "Right, anymore presents for Miss Amy?" He looked up, clearing his throat as he stood and moving back to Sherlock's side. Did he hold his husband's hand again? Talk to him, move close? He hesitantly reached a hand out and grabbed Sherlock's hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. He watched as Amy gently put the picture back in the box and held on to the teddy bear.

Sherlock didn't look up or return the squeeze, but he didn't pull away from the touch either. He wasn't sure what to think or feel right now. He had always thought of Amy his daughter since the moment she had been born. He had raised her with John, but they weren't related. She didn't even share his name. It was something he had always wanted but he had never asked John for it. He couldn't. He never would either, he had decided a long time ago.

Thomas stared at his dad's for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. Daddy looked upset and Dad looked like he always did when Daddy was sad. He wasn't going to let them ruin Amy's birthday! Maybe she wouldn't notice. Distraction. "Me! I got Amy something!" He stood up quickly, forcing a grin on his face as he ran over to his sister. "Here!" It was a small box. Inside were hand written cards. It had things on them like: 'Thomas will play dolls' or "Thomas will play dress up."

Amy grinned at Thomas, casting the teddy bear aside and opening the box with a grin of her own. "'Mas!" She giggled and looked at them, scrunching her eyes. She still wasn't too good at reading but she understood. They were tickets. She put the box on the couch and slid off of the couch, pulling her brother into a tight hug. "They're the bestest, 'Mas," she said softly as she smiled against his shirt. "You're the bestest," she added.

John shifted, reached into his back pocket, and cleared his throat. "I talked to your brother," he whispered. He had planned on waiting until that night while they were in bed, under the covers and catching their breath...but now it was clear Sherlock needed something to cheer him up. "And you know he can do anything." He laughed a bit and unfolded the piece of paper, revealing a copy of Amy's birth certificate. An edited version. Under name the print was slightly different, revealing something that John had been considering for years. 'Amy Sandoval Sawyer Watson-Holmes.' He glanced up at Sherlock as he slid the piece of paper into his husband's lap, squeezing his hand again.

Sherlock managed a small smile. It still had Sarah's last name. God, why did this bother him so much? Even though Sarah was dead, didn't mean she didn't have some rights to Amy. He supposed in some ways she had more rights than he ever would. Why couldn't he just stop being jealous of this woman? Because he had caught John cheating on him with her and to him that was all she would ever be. It was all he could ever see when he thought about her.

Thomas smiled and returned the hug. "You can turn those in anytime and I have to do whatever the ticket says." He had learned about them in school. How they would make a nice a gift for a mother, but he didn't have a mummy anymore. He had a sister though and she was a girl, so it should still be okay.

Still not good. John looked up and noticed that everybody's focus was on Amy, except Mycroft who was holding a sleeping Siger against his chest. "It's Sarah's last name, isn't it?" He spoke softly, his voice shaking. It had to be because now...now Amy had his last name, too. That was supposed to cheer him up and help a little but he was still tense, still clearly unhappy. "I...I'm sorry."

Amy looked up at Thomas and giggled. "You's gonna have to play dolls!" She declared. "But not now. Want to save it," she whispered as she kept her arms wrapped around Thomas. Her older brother was practically her idol and she wanted to do everything he did. "Does it mean I gets to go to school soon?" He asked softly, eyes bright with hope.

Sherlock shrugged. "We can talk about it later," he muttered. He hoped maybe his husband would forget about it and they wouldn't have to talk about it all. It just made him bitter and jealous all over again. He should be over this by now, shouldn't he? Was John still upset about his affair? His had been accident. He'd had amnesia at the time, but he supposed that really wasn't a good excuse was it? He sighed at his thoughts, still looking down into his lap thoughtfully.

Thomas glanced at his parents, they were still brooding. Right. "Maybe Papa and Dada will enroll you into preschool. You would love it! And when I came home from primary school, I would help you! You'll be the smartest one in class, 'cause I'll teach you stuff the other kids won't know yet." He nodded at that, smiling down at Amy.

Right. John tensed and had the urge to pull his hand away but didn't, simply relaxing and giving up because it was clearly not worth it anymore. Sherlock wasn't going to try and 'talk about it later' was more of his husband hoping he would just drop it. He narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat, glancing up at Amy and Thomas instead. They were interacting and, damn it, their son was being more responsible than both of them.

"Preschool," Amy whispered with a small giggle, biting her bottom lip and nodding. "Yeah. Let's do that." She picked up all of her presents and put them neatly beside the couch next to Nancy. "'Mas, can we's watch the doggy movie?" She asked curiously, grabbing the DVD from the shelf and handing '101 Dalmatians' to her brother. "Can we? Please?"

"I'm sorry John," Sherlock whispered, hoping no one else would hear. "I am just being a selfish idiot like usual." He gave his husband's hand a small squeeze. "If you really want to talk about it we will." If they did talk about it, it would probably end in a fight. Something he wasn't looking forward to.

Again? Thomas knew every word of the movie. He had watched it multiple times since being suspended from school, sometimes more than once a day. He wanted to get Amy away from his parents though. They were whispering about something and that was never good. "Of course! Come on!" He grabbed his sister's hand and led her to the living room with the big telly.

John lifted his gaze and thought about it for a long moment. "I...we are going to fight," he muttered. Of course they were about such a touchy subject. He never wanted to fight. They were always loud and had a tendency to be violent. At least the make-up sex was good. "Just wanted to...I don't know. You raised her." He shrugged weakly and watch as Thomas and Amy left the room. "Thought you would like it." And now the rest of the family was focused on themselves. "I know you hate Sarah and I need to get over it."

"I do like it. It was a nice sentiment Love." Sherlock leaned over and gave John a kiss on the side of the head, just above the ear. "I don't hate Sarah…I am…I'm still jealous…" He trailed off with a sigh and a shrug. It was stupid of course. They were married and there wasn't anyone to be envious of anymore.

Right. Still jealous. John turned to look at his husband for a long moment, pain evident in his eyes. "Please don't ever feel jealous. I picked you. I married you and I am spending the rest of my life with you," his voice was low and serious. He figured he deserved this simply because he cheated by out right shagging somebody else. It didn't matter that it had led to Amy, it still happened and it still haunted Sherlock. "I just want her to know. This isn't me pushing you out of her life and this isn't me intentionally bringing Sarah back to make you jealous. I...I just want her to know."

Sherlock _did_ know that. Shit. He _really_ was just a selfish idiot, wasn't he? He sighed at himself and dropped his head. "It is fine Love, I promise. It really is." He looked back up at John, smiling genuinely. Everything was all right too. He leaned his head onto his husband's shoulder, seeking comfort. His eyes closed in contentment. He would never tire of the closeness that he and John shared, no matter how many times it happened.

No fighting. John smiled and bit his bottom lip, his hand curling protectively against Sherlock's bicep. "Good," he whispered. "Very good." He laughed softly and could see the start of '101 Dalmatians' from their spot on the floor. "God, I hate this movie. I can recite it word for word," he muttered as he raised a brow and looked down at his husband. It was crazy how much their lives had changed in the past three years all because of Amy. "You being all close is turning me on," he said softly.

Sherlock smirked a bit but it turned into a frown. "Sorry," he muttered and lifted his head off of his husband's shoulder. He hadn't meant to turn John on. He had just wanted to be close to his husband. He honestly wasn't looking for anything beyond that and it was better to stop it then to let things continue on. Holding hands would have to do for now, his grip a bit tighter now.

Was it horrible that he was teasing Sherlock and enjoying it? John couldn't help himself, wanted to constantly touch his husband and have him close. It was selfish, sure, but it was one of his favorite things. Touching, kissing...anything to do with Sherlock at his side. "How are those bite marks doing?" He asked as he opened an eye curiously, glancing down at his hand.

"Tender," Sherlock admitted. "If you keep you touching me like that, I will shag you right here in front of everyone." He lifted his head to smirk at John. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or joking with his husband. "Or maybe that is what you really want." He arched a brow at John, the smirk still in place.

John blushed furiously at that, taking a deep breath as he met his husband's gaze. "I couldn't help myself. God, you just look...so vulnerable and it turned me on," he whispered roughly, his voice shaking at just the thought. "And you aren't shagging me, remember? I am in control." He smirked proudly and gently met Sherlock's lips, wasting no time in letting his tongue eagerly entering his husband's mouth.

Sherlock was about to comment but instead he returned the kiss, ignoring the stares from everyone else in the room.

Nancy shook her head. "Boys, the children are in the other room. At least go to yours. It was bad enough we all heard you on the couch yesterday." She gave them a small smirk before getting up. "Goings to retire early." She still wasn't feeling a hundred percent. She left the sitting room in favor of her own room.

John pulled away from Sherlock's mouth roughly and looked at his mother-in-law with wide eyes. God, he remembered that and they had commented that everybody had certainly heard them but Nancy... "I...sorry," he whispered as he cleared his throat. They left little to the imagination that day. "I can clean the couch if you want," he added as he swallowed hard. This was embarrassing. It was like being caught by his parents when he was a teenager in the back if his Mum's car.

Sherlock smirked. "Mum's gone to bed already Love. Besides, it is obvious Mycroft and Lestrade never bothered to clean it." He gave John a quick kiss on the head before standing up from the floor. He was either getting old or his thighs hurt more than he realized. Maybe a combination of both. He groaned at his aching joints, and then offered a hand to help his husband up.

John easily took Sherlock's hand, standing up and looking up at his husband. "Still embarrassing," he whispered softly. Always was. He hated when Nancy knew about their sex life. "I feel horrible." He bit his bottom lip ran a finger gently down his husband's chest, watching it intently. "I like you being taller than me," he said as he licked his lips and curiously raised an eyebrow. "Don't you dare say that it isn't that hard," he added sharply.

Sherlock smirked with a shrug. "I don't know what you are talking about." The smirk got bigger. "I like you being shorter anyways. It makes me look taller and I get to do this a lot." He bent down and kissed the top of John's head. He wrapped his arms around his husband and drew John into a hug. He still wanted to be close to his husband.

John relaxed into Sherlock, burying his face into the man's chest and inhaling deeply. He managed to see Lestrade stand up, help Mycroft, and the both headed upstairs with Siger to help get him to bed. Alone. Except now he was relaxed, content to stay wrapped in Sherlock's long arms. "Won't let you kiss the top of my head like that much longer," he muttered into the soft, expensive fabric of his husband's shirt. "I am going gray and there is no way in Hell I'm embracing that."

Sherlock smirked as he rested his chin on the top of John's head. "You could always dye your hair like some men do, if it would really make you feel better. I will love your hair and you, no matter what color it is." He hugged his husband closer still. It wouldn't be long until the movie would be over and time to take the children upstairs and tuck them in. He was dreading the conversation with Amy about Sarah. Maybe little Sandi will be too tired to ask.

It wasn't hard to miss the slight change in body language and for a moment, one that made his stomach twist, John prided himself on the fact that he could read his husband like he did. Not looking forward to something, clearly. It wasn't hard to put everything together. "If...you don't want to be there when we talk about Sarah you don't have to be," he muttered into Sherlock's shirt, his hands splaying across his husband's lower back. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Sherlock stood straight, releasing John from the hug so he could look down at his husband. "I told you I would be, and I don't plan on reneging. Little Sandi has a right to know who her mother is, despite my personal feelings." He managed to give John a small smile. "You aren't going to do something like this alone. I will be right there with you Love."

That was exactly the reason he had married Sherlock. John smiled softly and pulled Sherlock back into a hug. "Can't just leave me like that, all cold," he whispered as his eyes slipped shut. "We could go in there, finish the movie with them. God knows Thomas needs a bit of rescuing." Without waiting for a response he grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged him toward the living room, smiling at their children as he moved to the couch. "Can I put my head in your lap?" He asked softly.

Amy whipped around for a moment, studied her parents, and cleared her throat. "Movie," she whispered before turning back toward the telly.

Sherlock followed after John without complaint or hesitation. He smiled and nodded at his husband's question. Goodness knows he didn't want to be chastised by a three year old again. He grinned at the thought. Once John was situated, he began running his hand through his husband's hair and even scratched here and there.

Thomas got up off the floor and climbed up onto his Dad's chest, using John as a pillow. The coat he had gotten, firmly in his grasp and pulled up to his chest like a small child with a blanket. He didn't care that he looked like a baby. He was never letting go of the coat. He was going to wear it everywhere.

John smiled warmly, looking down at Thomas and slowly wrapping an arm around the boy's back. That coat. The fact that they found it was a miracle on its own, really. It was perfect. His body naturally shifted, his free arm opening to reveal the rest of the couch at his side. He did the countdown in his head, his eyes drifting shut at the feeling of Sherlock's expert fingers. _3...2...1._

Amy curled eagerly against his side, using his bicep as a pillow so she could continue to watch the movie, her back pressed against his ribs. No talking was clearly the rule because she didn't say a word, merely pulled one of her many new stuffed dogs closer to her and popped her thumb into her mouth.

Sherlock smirked as Amy snuggled into John as well. This was nice. Perfect. Hopefully it wouldn't all be taken away from him. It was something he worried about constantly but never said anything to his husband because it would only worry John as well.

Thomas wasn't really into the movie after having to watch it so many times and he was very comfortable and relaxed. His eyes drifted closed as he fell asleep, the tight grip remained on the coat though.

John let his breathing even out, slowly opening his eyes and just staring up at Sherlock. Perfect, wonderful Sherlock. The smile on his lips was lazy but he couldn't help it. The hands in his hair were pushing his body further and further into the couch and he turned his head, pressing his nose gently against Sherlock's stomach. "Mmm," he hummed, hoping he didn't wake Thomas up.

Amy didn't even move but he could tell she was still awake, her little chest moving in rapid breaths as the puppies were kidnapped.

Sherlock continued run his fingers through his husband's soft hair. It was something that not only calmed John but him as well. He was thinking about sleeping as well. Maybe family nap time or maybe they would just all sleep on the couch together tonight. Except, John was supposed to shag him after their talk with Amy. He forced himself to stay awake, which was easy since it was something he did often.

John turned his head to watch Amy, smiling like an idiot as he watched her chest slow, her grip on the stuffed dog slip slightly. Sleeping. God, he wanted to sleep. Sherlock's lap was so comfortable and the hands in his hair were practically turning him to putty. But Sherlock wanted him tonight and it was hard to deny that he wanted to shag his husband into their mattress. "Wake me up in half an hour?" He muttered as his eyes finally slipped shut.

Would John be upset if he fell asleep too? They could always shag later, right? Sherlock decided to let the DVD continue playing, in case the sudden silence would wake up little Sandi. He finally let himself relax enough to sleep, the hand in John's hair stilling. He had meant to wake up a half hour later but ending up sleeping through the night.


	25. Chapter 25

John woke up a bit confused, eyes staring straight at Sherlock's stomach. Not a bed. They definitely didn't shag the night before. Couch then. He smiled a bit and turned his head, studying Thomas and Amy. Their daughter had substituted her thumb in favor of his index finger, sucking on it intently on her sleep. All he could do was smile. Waking up to this was better than shagging. "You awake?" He whispered as he pressed his nose against his husband's stomach.

Sherlock began running his fingers through John's hair again, in answer. He didn't want to wake up the children. Even though having everyone piled on top of him was a bit uncomfortable, he had slept wonderfully. He was used to it anyway. It had to be one of his favorite moments. A servant must have come in and turned off everything, because it was quiet and dark. The sun wasn't quite up yet.

John let his eyes slip shut, his body relaxing again. He was still tired and the fact that the sun wasn't up definitely wasn't helping. It was better to relax anyway because there was no way he could move. He could sign a bit with his left hand that was resting on Thomas's back. He didn't want to risk pulling his finger from Amy's mouth, it would definitely wake her up. His hand lifted slowly and moved the best he could manage. 'Love you. Sorry.'

Sherlock smiled. He couldn't sign either really. His other hand was under John. He continued to run his fingers through his husband's hair. He was able to move just enough to lean his head down and kiss John's forehead. "Love you too," he murmured before sitting back up. The sun would be up soon, he figured and the servants would begin making breakfast. Once it was close to being done, he would wake his husband back up.

In hindsight John knew it wouldn't be a good idea to fall back asleep but he was tired. He was only asleep for a few minutes before his eyes opened quickly and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His shoulder felt like it was on fire but any movement of his left arm would wake Amy up and he didn't want to do that. His chest was moving in deep, rapid movements and he instantly tried to calm himself down to keep Thomas asleep. Nightmare. Jesus. He kept his eyes locked intently on Sherlock, several tears running down his face. So much pain.

Sherlock frowned as John woke back up. Damn it. A nightmare. It had been awhile since his husband had on of those. The hand in John's hair moved down to his husband's face, gently wiping away the tears.

Thomas groaned when he felt the change of breathing from his Dad. Was something wrong? He sat up slowly, hands wiping at eyes before focusing on John. "Dad?" He glanced up at Sherlock. "Daddy? What's wrong?" He frowned, brows furrowed in confusion.

John groaned softly, hiding his face the moment he heard Thomas's voice. Amy hadn't moved yet and he was truly thankful for that. It was hard enough having Sherlock and Thomas see him like this. He finally managed to catch his breath but his body was still tense, the pain in his shoulder was nearing unbearable. Don't move. Don't wake Amy up. His finger was still lodged comfortably in her mouth. "Sorry," he whispered into his husband's stomach. "Sorry."

Sherlock continued to comfort John as best he could with one hand. "Everything is fine. You are safe now," he whispered.

Thomas looked at his daddies, trying to figure out why his Dad was crying. His eyes went wide in realization and he wrapped his arms around John in a tight hug.

Thomas' hug made John smile slightly, his head moving so his already red eyes could focus on their son. So smart and comforting. His arm slowly wrapped around Thomas's body and he sighed. The best thing he could do at the moment was ignore the pain. "Sherlock," he whispered as he studied his husband. "Sorry. Sorry."

Sherlock's hand moved back to John's hair, hoping his fingers running through it would help calm his husband down. "Shhh, stop apologizing. You are fine. Nothing to be sorry for." He kept his voice at a whisper, hoping little Sandi would keep sleeping.

Thomas continued to cling tightly to his Dad. It was weird to think about adults having nightmares. They still plagued him from time to time. Usually the plane crash and watching his mother die. What did Dad have nightmares about? Dad was so strong and brave, what could his Dad be afraid of?

Talk. John needed to talk and try to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "They shot me," he whispered as he kept his gaze locked on Sherlock. "I was running and my gun was up and they shot me." His voice was broken and scared. God, he sounded like a little boy. "A-And I went down and screamed." Exactly what happened when he had been shot the first time. But now he was calm, his eyes narrowed slightly as the pain in his shoulder ebbed. At least he had managed to keep Amy asleep. She would be cranky for the rest of the day if she woke up now.

Sherlock was surprised his husband had been willing to talk about the nightmare with Thomas awake. How long had it been since John had that nightmare? A couple years. Usually his husband's nightmares were something more current. "You are safe now."

Should he go? Thomas chewed his lip indecisively. He glanced at the clock. It would be breakfast time soon. He climbed off his Dad carefully, trying not to wake his sister up. He scampered off towards the kitchen, wanting a bowl of cereal over an entire meal.

John almost never had nightmares about Afghanistan anymore. On the rare occasion that they happened they were about the kids, about Sherlock. Why Afghanistan? Why now? He swallowed hard and watched Thomas run off. Fuck, Thomas hadn't known very much about his military service. He probably sounded like a bloody madman to their son now. "Shoulder hurts," he whispered with a small frown, eyes widening a bit when Amy mumbled around his index finger.

Sherlock moved his hand to John's shoulder and began to rub where the scar was gently. "Think about my touch. Think about here and now." He kept his voice low, in hopes Amy would stay asleep still. It was too early for their daughter to get up. With any luck, he would be able to distract John from the psychosomatic pain in the shoulder.

John's eyes slowly closed and he exhaled shakily at Sherlock's touch. Now. On a couch with...most of his family. His husband's hand was warm and he smiled a bit. It faltered when the steady suction on his finger changed and Amy slowly pulled her mouth away. "Amy, sweetie," he whispered as she turned and pressed her face into his ribs. She took a deep breath and started breathing steadily again. Sherlock's hand was still there and he sighed, ending it with a soft groan. Still hurt but it was better.

Was he helping at all or just making things worse? Sherlock continued to rub gently where the scar was located, careful not to bump Amy with his hand. He bent his head and kissed John on the head. "Love you," he murmured. He tilted his head, so his ear would rest on his husband's head. He was hoping to give John a sense of comfort and peace with their closeness.

John lifted his head slightly and gave Sherlock a quick kiss on any part of his body he could reach. "Love you, too," he whispered softly as a spike of pain shot through his arm. He muffled the sound by biting his lips and winced when he felt Amy move even further.

"I is sleepin'," Amy muttered into Sherlock's side, turning to glance at the floor. The sleeping bag she received was still on the floor and _that_ didn't talk or breathe fast. She moved away from John's side and moved instantly into her sleeping bag, clutching the stuffed dog she had slept with all night.

John snorted slightly and looked up at Sherlock, hissing slightly and arching his back now that he could move. All in his head. The pain was all in his head.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at little Sandi and then lifted his head so he could look down at his husband. "I will get up and then you can stretch out on the couch. I will give you a massage. Maybe that would help." It seemed liked a reasonable suggestion to him. Maybe John would think so too.

John's eyes went wide at the suggestion before he reminded himself that this was Nancy's living room, not the battlefield. Sherlock wasn't a medic, he was his husband and he _was_ going to be right there. Not leaving. He swallowed hard and gently nodded his head. His shoulder felt like he had just been shot. It hadn't hurt this bad in years, even in the cold weather. What had happened? Of all the times to wake up from the worst nightmare of them all. "Yeah," he muttered as he slowly sat up and slumped into himself, hands braced on his shins as he broke into a cold sweat.

Sherlock frowned. Was there something else going on? More than just the nightmare? Had something triggered it? He couldn't think of anything that had happened lately that would have done that. Stress maybe? Was this his fault? Had him using drug put too much stress on John and it was just now catching up with his husband? He sighed at his thoughts, pushing them aside for now. John needed him right now. "Easy Love. I am right here. Try and relax. You are home in London at the Holmes manor, with me and the children." He leaned down to whisper in John's ear. "We shagged on this couch." He was kneeling on the floor now, fingers probing into the tense muscles of his husband's back.

Sherlock's hands felt like fire but it helped, the touch of reality keeping his mind anchored in London and not in the dream that had suddenly appeared. He bit roughly into his bottom lip, ignoring the blood that dripped on to his leg and soaked into his jeans. One drop. Two drops. He licked his lip and his entire body tensed again before he forced himself to relax. The pain hadn't been this bad since physical therapy when he had been too weak to do anything, had yelled at the staff and broken down all within five minutes. One hand moved to clutch at the couch cushions. Shagged on the couch. He smiled a bit and tilted his head and eyed Sherlock. "'M trying," he whispered.

Sherlock smiled. "I know. You are doing great. Just focus on me talking to you. Think about when I am going to shag you into the window at the flat. How it will be recorded and we can watch anytime we want together. Think about how all of London will see your fine arse." He smirked. God, if he kept talking like that he was going to get an erection. He needed to stay focused and comfort John.

John smirked at that, his head dropped again as his body tensed. "T-Thought you were taking me from behind," he muttered bravely. "Wouldn't that mean they would see my face s-slammed against the window?" A smirk tugged at his lips proudly and he relaxed for a moment, letting out a small shout as his entire left arm tenses. Nerve damage. He had ignored it, not told Sherlock, but he had always had it. Hell, Sherlock had probably always known. He swallowed and forced himself to relax into his husband's hand. Maybe it was working. The pain was starting to go away.

"Oh I am, but first we are making out like a couple of horny teenagers. I will be pressed up against you, my erection pressed tightly against your stomach. My lips on your neck, biting and sucking. I'll be scratching you and pulling your hair." God, he really needed to stop talking but he couldn't stop thinking about it now. Sherlock shifted a bit on the floor, ignoring the growing hard on. John needed him. Now was not the time to be selfish. His fingers continued to knead into his husband's skin, seeking to relieve the tight muscles.

"Jesus," John whispered, his breath hitching in his throat. Was that from Sherlock's hands or his words? Fuck, he didn't know. All he was worried about was not getting a bloody erection while Amy was in the room. Except he could conclude that his husband was well on his way from the amount of movement he was doing on the floor. At least the pain was gone now and he was focused on the images in his head. "And we are recording it."

There. He was finally getting John to stop thinking about the dream and focus on now. Well, the future really he supposed. Sherlock smirked. "Damn right we are." He wasn't sure why he had wanted to record that particular shagging or why he wanted to record them shagging period, it had just popped in his head one day and the idea hadn't left him alone ever since. At least his husband seemed interested in it as well. Shit, Amy was laying near him and here he was thinking things that were far from appropriate. It had been the only thing he could think of to distract John though.

John's body slumped to the side, his right shoulder against the back of the couch. The pain was gone and Sherlock's hand was there. Warm and reassuring. "You are good at that," he whispered with a sideways smile as he opened one eye and studied his husband.

Sherlock was lost in thought and he almost missed what John had said. "Good at what?" Distracting his husband? It was really the only thing that made sense to him. He supposed he was, but it had taken him awhile to figure it out. He continued to press his fingers into John's skin, finally feeling the tension leaving.

John snorted at his husband and turned, losing contact with Sherlock's hand for a moment to give him a slow kiss. "Everything," he whispered against his partner's lips. It didn't take long for John to kiss his husband again, a hand moving to Sherlock's hair to pull him closer. The man had got him all work up and now he wanted more. The pain in his shoulder was gone and now he wanted Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked and returned the kisses. "Don't forget, I have a sleeping princess behind me." It was his fault. He had worked them both up. "Later. After breakfast." He wasn't sure he could wait that long but he was going to have to. He pulled away from John reluctantly, hands dropping to his sides as he stood up.

After breakfast. John fell back on to the couch, looking up at Sherlock with a smirk. The bulge in his trousers was obvious and he didn't bother to hide it. Sherlock should certainly feel proud of himself for turning John on with just his words, especially while he was in pain. "Eat fast," he muttered. He wasn't going to eat because the twist in his stomach was still there, the nightmare was still lingering on the edge of his thoughts. Anything he ate would certainly make a reappearance.

Sherlock tilted his head back to Amy. "I am not the one who will be eating." He smirked as be eyed John's lap and then grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch. He offered it to his husband. Better to be on the safe side with their daughter in the same room.

John snatched the blanket with a blush, spreading it across his lap before locking his gaze on Sherlock's crotch. Jesus. Just the thought made him swallow hard. "I hope you meant that as an innuendo," he whispered harshly, his voice shaking slightly as he lifted his eyes. "Please mean that as an innuendo." Now he just sounded desperate.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, the smirk returning. "I actually hadn't. I was talking about feeding little Sandi breakfast." Probably shouldn't have said that. Would that ruin the mood? At least Amy was still asleep. He wanted to make sure their daughter was fed before running off to shag. He was trying to prove to himself he wasn't failing at being a father, even though lately it felt like it.

"Still sucking you off," John stated with a sure grin as he looked up at his husband wryly. "Pin you against the door and take you down my thro-"

Amy shifted and sat up, rubbing at her eyes before glancing at her parents. "'M hungry," she muttered as she slowly stood up, stumbling toward Sherlock and half dragging her stuffed dog across the floor. "Aeroplane?" She asked softly as her free hand tugged at her Papa's trousers. "Aeroplane," she demanded with slightly narrowed eyes.

Sherlock smirked at John and when he turned around to look at little Sandi, it turned into a big smile. "Of course Baby Girl. Anything for my favorite girl in the whole universe!" He picked Amy up. "What are we having for breakfast?" He asked as he began walking toward the kitchen.

"Ummm..." Amy licked her lips and twisted slightly to drop her stuffed dog on to the floor. "Oatsmeal? Can I's have oatsmeal please?" She grinned and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, placing a kiss on her Papa's cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed their cheeks together, her legs curling around Sherlock's torso the best she could manage. Definitely John's child. Short limbs.

That made Sherlock happy. Little Sandi had dropped her stuffed dog in favor of being closer to him. God, he loved her so much. "Oatmeal it is." He entered the kitchen and went over to the pantry. Right. Of course there were several different flavors in there. There was some with fruit, maple and brown sugar, raisins, and even just plain. "Pick a box that looks yummy Baby Girl."

Amy bit her bottom lip and glanced nervously at Sherlock. So many choices and she got to pick? She cleared her throat and studied each one. Yellow. Well, that must have meant banana, right? "Yellow one," she said hesitantly, reaching out to grab it. "Yeah. Yeah, yellow one." She pushed the box gently against his chest. "'S gonna be 'nana oatsmeal?" She asked curiously.

Sherlock took the box. "That's right Baby Girl. You are so smart. Do you want toast or anything else with the oatmeal?" He read the directions, emptying the contents into a bowl. It called for water but used milk instead. It was how it had been made when growing up and it had stuck with him. He put it in the microwave for the time advised.

More? She could have more? Amy grinned and glanced at the fridge. "Does Gramma has apple juice?" She asked curiously as one of her hands drifted up to wrap loosely in Sherlock's hair. She shifted, balancing herself against his hip, and looked back at him. "I's want apple juice, please," she determined with a sure nod of her head, turning her attention the microwave.

"Of course you can more! You are a growing girl!" Sherlock smiled and grabbed one of those special cups for the children that had a lid where they could suck the drink out. He only filled it half full, just in case. The microwave went off and he stirred the oatmeal. "We have to let it cool down first Baby Girl and then the aeroplane will come. Here." He offered the cup of juice to his daughter.

Amy eagerly grabbed the cup and started drinking from it loudly. Her gaze was locked intently on Sherlock's face, very John-like as she glanced between her oatmeal and Papa. Waiting. That seemed to settle well with her, her head resting on his shoulder as she continued to suck at her cup. All she wanted was the aeroplane. After several moments she slowly pulled the cup from her mouth with a hiccup, handing the empty cup to Sherlock.

Sherlock raised his brows. At least little Sandi was already potty trained and it wasn't before bed. He would get more juice if she asked for it. "All right. I think it is ready." He picked up a spoon and blew on it first. "Here it comes. Here comes the aeroplane. Vroooom…" He made some exaggerated zigzags in the air and then went towards her mouth.

Amy opened her mouth immediately, looking up at Sherlock as she chewed intently and smiled. "'Nana," she said around her mouthful of food. One hand clutched at the front of her Papa's shirt as she looked around the kitchen. After a long moment she opened her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on the couch where John had fallen back asleep. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked at Sherlock. "Did Dada know my Mummy?"

Sherlock was in the middle of another 'vrooming aeroplane' when little Sandi asked the question. He faltered slightly but managed to finish the spoon to her mouth. Right. How was going to answer? The truth was probably was best he supposed. "Yes. They used to work together. She was a doctor like Daddy. Her name was Sarah Sawyer."

Amy chewed slowly, swallowing and nodding a bit. "Sarah," she muttered, her face scrunching as the name sounded weird on her tongue. "An' then she left?" She asked softly, glancing back at John. "Was it cause of Dada? Did he does something to make her upset? A'cause one time Dada and you was talking 'bouts...war?" Another foreign word and her gaze lifted to Sherlock. "An' Dada was in the war. He was a...he's said he was a killer."

Sherlock's heart sank. He really didn't want to be having this conversation with little Sandi, especially not alone. John was asleep though. "She…died sweetie, when you were born. I'm sorry." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "War is something adults do. Daddy wanted to protect London, me, you, and Thomas. So he went away and fought some bad guys. He only shot them because they shot at him first. He is a hero."

Died? Amy head tilted curiously to the side and she exhaled nosily through her nose. "Died?" She asked softly, her voice low as she tried to figure out what that meant. "Dada didn't make her die, did he?" She eyed the spoon curiously, clearly able to focus on the food and the conversation that she had no idea was serious. "Is that why you's married Dada? A'cause he's a hero?"

"No, no, no of course not sweetheart." It occurred to Sherlock that little Sandi probably didn't know what dying meant. Should he try to explain? Oh thank God, a question he could answer without feeling weird. "I married your Dada because I love him. He's strong, brave, and overall just amazing." He was supposed to be feeding Amy. He got another spoon and sent another 'aeroplane' toward her mouth.

Amy instantly opened her mouth, eyes locked intently on her Papa. She chewed, pushing the food to one side of her mouth and smiling. "That's good. Love is good," she stated simply. "I loves you so it must be good." Clearly the most rational thought out argument in the world to little Amy. "So Mummy," she muttered as she studied the bowl of oatmeal. "She doesn't come back?"

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Love is very good." The smile disappeared. "Yes. When someone dies, they fall asleep and don't wake up again. They are gone forever. That is why Dada gave you a picture of your Mum. So, you could see what she looked like. Even though she is gone, she'll always be in here and here." He pointed to her head and then heart.

"I dun 'member her," Amy whispered with a small frown, watching Sherlock's finger before sniffing. "Is that bad? She stays with me even if I doesn't remember her?" She smiled weakly and buried her face into Sherlock's neck. "That is otay, Papa, a'cause I gots you and Dada," she stated as her arms tightened around his neck. "I got's you and Dada," she repeated before she reached a hand out, grabbed the spoon, a sloppily fed herself a bite of oatmeal.

Sherlock managed a weak smile. "That's okay Baby Girl. That is why Dada gave you a picture of your Mum. So you can see her anytime you want, so you won't forget." The smile got bigger. "That's right. You have us and we love you so much. Well, look at you Big Girl! Feeding yourself." He grinned at little Sandi proudly.

Amy smiled eagerly, clearly proud that she had made Sherlock smile. She moved the spoon and lifted it to her mouth again, smiling around the metal as some oatmeal slid down her chin. She put the spoon back in the bowl and swallowed the bite in her mouth. "Can I asks you what it's like to have a Mummy? You's has a Mummy."

Sherlock's smile got bigger, even though the oatmeal was getting on her face. "Somebody is going to have a bubble bath when breakfast is over!" Right. Another question. Of course. "Well, it is pretty much the same as having a Dad. Except Mummy is a girl and not a boy." What else should he say? He really wasn't sure how to answer this question. "Mum's love their children just as much as daddies do."

That seemed like a good enough answer and Amy dropped the subject with a small hiccup, moving to pick up the spoon and spilling oatmeal across the front of Sherlock's shirt. She blushed furiously and put the spoon back into the bowl. "Oops," she muttered as she studied her Papa. "Sorry. I's sorry."

Good. Little Sandi seemed to have accepted all his answers. Sherlock smiled down at Amy. "You are fine Baby Girl. It just means Papa will have to clean up too. Here." He picked up the spoon. "Here comes the aeroplane! Vrooooom…" He moved the food towards her mouth, moving it around in the air first.

Amy opened her mouth and smiled up at Sherlock. She chewed slowly, turning slightly in Sherlock's arms when John appeared in the doorway. His shirt was wrinkled and partially unbuttoned. His left shoulder was exposed, his scar peaking out from underneath the fabric. "Dada! Papa, he's told me about Mummy and you's being a hero!"

John's eyes shot open at that, locked intently on his husband. "That's...wonderful, Amy."

Shit. Was John going to be mad? His husband had wanted to be the one to tell their daughter about Sarah and he had ruined it. What was he supposed to do though? Just ignore the questions? Sherlock forced the thoughts from his mind, unable to look at John right now. There was only one spoonful left and he scooped it and vroomed it towards little Sandi's mouth.

Amy chewed her final bite, more oatmeal sliding down her chin. Her gaze was locked intently on Sherlock, eyes wide and in sharp contrast to John's. Filled with shock, hurt. "We's a mess, Papa," she declared with a giggle as John brushed past them.

"Why don't you help Amy wash up and then she and Thomas and Siger can go play outside," John said as he pulled an apple from the fridge and bit into it. He was keeping himself as calm as possible, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Right then. He had screwed up. John was pissed. Sherlock nodded slowly, and left the kitchen without looking or talking to his husband. He walked into the children's room and got a set of clean clothes and then walked guest bathroom where there was an over sized bathtub. He set little Sandi on the floor gently. "Baby Girl, undress while I fill the tub with water and some extra bubbles." He gave his daughter a small smile, but it disappeared when he stared into the tub.

Amy slowly pulled her shirt over her head, looking at Sherlock with a grin. It faltered when she noticed that her Papa wasn't smiling. "Is this cause of Mu- Sarah?" She slowly finished undressing, climbing into the tub with a frown. "I gotted you in trouble. Sorry," she whispered as she leaned forward and turned the water on. "I hates when you and Dada fight."

"Dada wanted to tell you about your Mum," Sherlock admitted quietly. He hadn't any right to tell little Sandi. No rights. The news was right. He wasn't good at this parenting thing at all, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't even a proper husband. He never would be. Damn it. Why couldn't he stay out of his own head for once? He wanted to flee the room, but there was no way he could leave his daughter unattended in a bathtub filling with water. "I hate when we fight too." He grabbed the bottle of bubble bath and poured more than necessary, the water becoming very foamy and soapy. He turned the water off once it came up to Amy's shoulders.

Amy's thoughts were quickly averted to the large amount of bubbles in her bath. Dada never let her have this many. She giggled and splashed her arms up and down, blowing them around the tub before pushing some toward Sherlock. "Here Papa! Play with the bubbles!" She grinned from in between two large piles of bubbles and studied her Papa curiously.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, despite his current mood. He scooped up some bubbles and wiped them on little Sandi's face and into her hair. He spread them around for a bit, and then picked up the container on the tub's ledge. He dipped into the water. "Here come some showers." He grinned a bit and poured the water over Amy's head.

Amy closed her eyes and coughed slightly, peaking up at Sherlock through the blonde hair spread out across her face. "More showers!" She declared with a small bounce, bubbles sloshing over the side from the movement of the water beneath them. "Has to get cleans a'fore I goes outside!" Her face lights up as she moved a hand and spreads bubbles over Sherlock's knee, watching the fabric darken with a giggle.

Sherlock grinned again. He dipped the container into the water again and dumped it onto little Amy's head. "Time to clean your pretty hair." He grabbed the child's shampoo, squirted it into his hand and gently scrubbed it into Amy's hair. "Close your eyes Baby Girl." He continued to rub the suds in and then dumped some more water on her head to rinse out the shampoo.

Amy sat still, obediently closing her eyes and gently tugging her knees up to her chest. She opened an eye slowly and licked his lips, looking around the tub. There weren't toys here, nothing to splash around or play with. She looked back up at Sherlock and stood slowly, both hands rested on his knees, before smearing bubbles across his cheek. "Papa, you's a better toy then the ones at home," she stated with a nod.

Sherlock smiled. Once little Sandi's hair was rinsed out, he put the container down. He brought his hand down to splash the water. It sloshed everywhere, some even over the sides of the tub. He kept his hand in the water, fingers above the water like a shark fin. "I'm going to get you!"

Amy let out a screech, splashing the water at Sherlock's hand. "No!" She laughed and pushed her back against the tub, cornering herself without knowing it. "Papa, shark! No shark!" She moved to swat at his hand. "Ahhh!" After another giggle she slid into the water and pushed bubbles into the path of Sherlock's hand. "There! Can'ts jump over the wall!"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Not a magical wall of protection!" His hand circled near the bubbles and began splashing around to get rid of the bubbles. "Water attack!" He continued to splash the water around with small growling noises. He was getting more water on him and on the floor than anything.

Amy's eyes widened and she searched the tub frantically for more bubbles. All of the splashing had made a lot of them disappear. "I's out of bubbles. I dun wanna die!" She grabbed Sherlock's hand and pushed it under the water, holding it as tight as she could manage. "There. Take that!" She declared proudly.

"Beaten again!" Sherlock exclaimed dramatically, with a bit of smile. "Come on Baby Girl. Let's get you out of the tub and dry you off." He took his hand out of the water, wiping it off on his shirt. It didn't really help to dry it off, considering how damp his clothes were. He stood up, bent down and offered to help little Sandi out of the tub.

Amy splashed around the water for a few more seconds before letting Sherlock pick her up. She looked around, curiously taking in everything from his height. The water from her body was quickly soaking through Sherlock's shirt. "Can I go play outside?" She asked curiously. "I wants to put in my pink dress and go play," she muttered as a small shiver ran through her body. "An' I wants to play with 'Iger." She buried her face into the side of his neck. "So's you and Dada can talk."

Sherlock was already wet, so the additional water didn't really matter. "All right." He picked up a towel and began drying off her back, since the front was pressed into him. He set her down gently, so he could finish drying of little Sandi. "There you go." Had he brought her a pink dress? He hadn't really paid attention when getting the clean clothes.

Amy didn't even wait to let Sherlock pick out her clothes, dashing toward the guest room down the hall without a care. She slid into her room and yanked a pink dress from her bag, stepping into it before grabbing a pair of underwear and pulling them on. "'M gonna go play nows!" She declared as she darted down the stairs, brushing past John as he stopped in front of the bathroom.


	26. Chapter 26

John was silent as he stood in the doorway, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he studied Sherlock. It was hard to decide if he was upset or not. Part of him was thankful that he didn't have to tell Amy about Sarah because he would have cried which would have upset his husband even more. Another part of him was raging with jealousy because that was supposed to be him. "Should probably change clothes," he stated softly as he turned and walked back toward the bedroom, sliding his shirt from his shoulders.

Sherlock looked down at his clothes with a slight shrug. He wasn't really looking forward to this conversation but he supposed he couldn't avoid it forever. He sighed, unplugged the tub and then followed after John into their bedroom they had here at the manor. He didn't even know what to say to his husband right now. He ended up sitting down on the bed, instead of changing. "I'm sorry John. She asked me and I told her."

Was he supposed to yell? Be unhappy? Most of him just wanted to collapse on the bed and be fucked into the mattress. Everything around him was just a blur, happening. John felt like he was losing a bit of control. "It's fine," he finally muttered as he started undoing his jeans. "I wouldn't have been able to do it in the slightest." He stopped unbuttoning his jeans, swaying slightly on his feet before moving to sit beside Sherlock on the bed. "I also feel a bit upset," he added with a small shrug as he rolled his shoulder and winced. "I wanted to tell her but she fell asleep and...I don't know," he stated with a sigh.

Sherlock frowned. Things weren't fine. Their daughter had noticed for Christ's sake. Should he tell John? Probably not. He sighed and wanted to do something to comfort or support his husband but he wasn't sure if that would be ill received. "I'm sorry," he repeated quietly. He didn't know what else to say. He was surprised John hadn't started yelling at him or maybe even kick him out again. Fuck. He could use a cigarette right now.

John let his head drop, both of his hands running through his hair slowly. There wasn't much more he could say and right now all he wanted was to have Sherlock's warm arms around him. He wanted to forget about Sarah and how jealous he had made his husband. "Can you please fuck me?" He asked in a low voice, not waiting for an answer before turning and roughly meeting Sherlock's lips.

Wait...what? Sherlock wasn't even remotely in the mood to shag. Even if John was kissing him right now. Would it make his husband feel better? Maybe he could get himself in the mood. He owed John something, he figured. So, might as well go along with it. He began returning the kiss, arms wrapping around his husband. His fingers began scratching up and down John's back.

John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, accepting the pain because he needed it. He needed to feel something other than jealousy, anger...the emptiness that had taken over his thoughts the past few days. Pain. That was something Sherlock was more than willing to give him. He bit down slightly on his husband's bottom lip, pushing Sherlock back against the mattress with a loud exhale from his nose.

Shit. Sherlock couldn't do this. Hadn't they agreed not to shag like this anymore? Would John just get even more pissed at him? Would it start a fight? He pulled away from his husband slowly. "John...I can't...we...shouldn't..." He sighed, dropping his head. This wasn't going to end well, was it? He looked back up at his husband hesitantly, not sure how this was going to turn out.

John tensed above of his husband, licking his lips and roughly biting down on his own bottom lip. God, he was hard and on top of Sherlock and couldn't do a bloody thing about it. Why shouldn't they? He was angry and needed Sherlock to _fuck_ him. Hard and fast, pulling his hair and biting. He needed some sort of vent and that's what they used to do. He groaned and rolled off of Sherlock, arching his hips up slightly.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John. Right. Should he apologize? Maybe try to comfort his husband? "I'm sorry," he muttered miserably after a long while. He was still wearing soaked clothing and it made him shiver a bit. He didn't move to change though, because undressing in front of John at the moment probably wouldn't be a very good idea. It was a minor discomfort compared to everything else that was going on.

"Mmmph." John turned and curled into Sherlock's side, taking a moment before completely wrapping himself around his husband. His legs moved tightly around Sherlock's waist, his ankles locked together. After another moment his arms wrapped around his husband's upper chest, his face pressed against Sherlock's shoulder. "'S fine," he whispered, ignoring the feeling of the wet and cold clothes against him.

Well, this was going better than he thought it would. Sherlock leaned into John a bit, an arm wrapping around his husband. His hand ran up and down John's arm soothingly. Should he try to talk to his husband about all of this? Or just sit here and try to comfort the other man as best as he could? He decided on silence for now.

For a moment John let his eyes shut, so he could forget everything going on around them. He liked it. "I don't think I am upset," he whispered as he placed a kiss against his husband's side. "It was bound to happen either way, you know?" In reality he had braced for it since Amy had been born and maybe Sherlock explaining everything to her had been for the best. "Thank you," he said as he voice broke.

Sherlock gave a small nod. Finally. There. Communication. Something he felt like they had gotten good at since they had agreed to it on their honeymoon. "I didn't want to tell her, but she had all these questions. About Sarah and you. I tried to explain everything the best I could." Should he leave out the part where Amy thought her Dad had been a killer?

John's attention was captured the moment he heard Sherlock talk about Amy's questions. "Me?" He asked, eyebrows brought together as he glanced up at his husband. "I...what did she ask about me?" It was probably the worst question he could ask because half of him knew the answer. Maybe he was wrong, though. Amy didn't know about war or about his past at all.

Fuck. Better just to get it over with. Communication was what he had wanted, right? Sherlock took a moment to answer anyway. "Yeah. She…wanted to know if you were a killer. I explained you only killed people who were hurting you or others first. That you were brave and a hero for your family and country."

Oh. John tensed instantly, his limbs tightening around Sherlock's body as his eyes went wide. "Right," he whispered, his voice rough. His own daughter had asked if he was a killer. "It's true." It was also hard to admit but he would always be a killer. "It's very true. I am a killer, Sherlock. It doesn't matter if they hurt me first. I killed them." And Amy knew. Somebody had told her. "D-Did she think I killed Sarah?"

This just kept getting worse. At this rate having meaningless, shallow sex seemed like the better option. Sherlock took even longer to answer the question. "She asked if you did, which of course you didn't. She also wanted to know why I married you and I told her because I love you. Because you are brave, strong, and amazing." He gave John a kiss on the side of the head, the arm around his husband tightening a bit.

"I did kill her," John whispered as his eyes slipped shut. "I got her pregnant and then drew attention to us by going back to Afghanistan. It is my fault that she is dead." His voice was muffled slightly against his husband's skin but it was a weak whisper at this point. He was breaking. It was too much. Sherlock thought he was brave...but he wasn't. He was nothing more than a murderer under the guise of being a soldier. Even Amy knew it.

"If I don't get to blame things on myself when things happen, then you don't either. If you are going to go that route, you might as well just point the finger at me. I am the one who put _you_ in the cross hairs of Moriarty. It was his network that killed her to try and get to me. So, by your own logic it was my fault." A lot of things that had happened were his fault. Sherlock sighed at his thoughts, his head leaning into John's.

"Wouldn't have gone after her if I hadn't have cheated on you and knocked her up," John shot back stubbornly, meeting Sherlock's gaze like a young child attempting to win an argument. "And now our daughter thinks I am a killer. You are the light of her life, Sherlock. She probably hates me by now." His eyes slipped shut and his face scrunched slightly before his head moved to rest over his husband's heart. "It's all my fault."

"You wouldn't have cheated on me, if I hadn't been selfish and let myself care about you to begin with." Sherlock sighed, slumping into his husband further. "She doesn't hate you Love. You are her 'Dada' and she will always love you. She only likes me because I can't say no to her and she knows it." He managed a faint smirk at that, but it was forced.

"If you hadn't started caring about me then we wouldn't be married," John whispered as he slowly moved a hand to rest on Sherlock's cheek. "And I wouldn't have the most amazing husband in the world." There. A positive twist. That was what they needed right now. "You do everything for her, Sherlock. You bathe her, get her dressed. Hell, you fucking eat just so she will." That had made him grin like an idiot when he had first found out from Thomas. "You are the best father Amy could ever have."

Sherlock supposed John had a point, without everything terrible that had happened to them then they probably wouldn't be here now. "A good father doesn't keep cocaine in a flat with children or do it while his children are in the flat." He still wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to do such a stupid thing. It was one of the many things he would never forgive himself for, even though others had.

"They also don't dwell on one mistake," John replied quickly, his blue eyes intently locked on Sherlock's face. "Amy will probably never remember it and I know Thomas will forgive you. Christ, Sherlock, Thomas wants to be just like you. You could get rid of the moon, set the flat on fire...he would follow you through all of it and defend you with every ounce of strength he has," he whispered, clearly proud of the little boy they had raised. "And to Amy, God, you can't do any wrong. You are...perfect."

Sherlock sighed. It didn't feel like only one mistake. There were so many other things he had done or not done. He knew the children looked up to him, but that didn't make him a good father. Mycroft had practically worshiped the ground their father walked on but that didn't make the Old Man a good parent.

"You are thinking," John whispered as his hand drifted from Sherlock's cheek to trace shapes against the damp fabric of his shirt. Calm. The last thing he needed was his husband to be in the same mental state as him. One of them needed to be positive and focused. Right now it definitely wasn't him. "I can feel it in your body. Your breathing slows but your heartbeat picks up," he stated simply as his eyes drifted up to study his husband.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment before replying. "I don't want to be like him, my father I mean. Just because the children want to be like me, doesn't make me a good parent John. The man you first met is still locked away somewhere inside of me and those few months I used, I was _him_. Selfish. Uncaring. Stupid. What if I give in again? Only something worse happens? I snap and God…" He trailed off, his head leaning on his husband's shoulder heavily.

"You aren't going to give in again. This new man, he is stronger than that," John declared as he lifted Sherlock's head and pressed their foreheads together. He had to stretch his torso to do it, winced at the twinge his shoulder gave, but it was worth it. "And you are _nothing_ like your father. You are so much more than a brute who can hardly raise children." Each word he spoke was true. How could he lie to his husband? The man was a natural father, something even he found hard to believe at first. "I know you won't give in again. I trust you."

At least one of them had faith in him, because he sure as hell didn't. He didn't know the first thing about being a father really. He just did everything completely opposite of how he had been raised in hopes of not failing as a parent completely. "I don't trust me." Sherlock paused. "I'm scared John," he admitted quietly. Even now that he was a father, it still terrified him. Why was having a family so hard? It had seemed so easy at first.

Hearing Sherlock sound so weak scared John. God, that was never a thing he had ever hear from his husband. "Don't be. You are so strong, Sherlock. You have fought so hard to end up where you are. Addiction, nearly getting killed. You deserve everything that you have." His hand had tightened in a fist into his husband's damp shirt without realizing it. He wasn't going to let this happen, damn it. "You are strong. Don't you ever think otherwise."

Strong. Right. He had to be strong for John. He was being stupid and selfish again wasn't he? Letting his stupid emotions get in the way when he should be taking care of his husband. He was Sherlock Holmes damn it and feeling fear wasn't an option. Especially not now. John and the children relied on him so much and here he was failing them like usual.

After a moment John twisted slightly, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. "There. Think positive and you are already feeling better, aren't you?" He whispered against his husband's lips. "Don't make me shag you to finish the job. Only amazing and wonderful husband's get their brains shagged out in their Mum's manor," he whispered with a grin. Clearly a bit of distraction for them both and maybe this time Sherlock wouldn't back out.

John certainly had a one track mind. Sherlock still wasn't in the mood and if it was possible, he was even less motivated than before. He was supposed to be taking care of his husband though. So, if it was what John really wanted then it was his obligation as a husband to go through with it, wasn't it? Maybe at least one of them would feel better afterward but it certainly wouldn't be him.

John moved to kiss Sherlock but pulled himself back, biting his bottom lip as he studied his husband. There wasn't a response to that at all. Normally Sherlock would smirk, turn to kiss him...but now he is quiet. He wasn't going to force Sherlock to do anything. He bit his bottom lip and buried his head back into his husband's side. "It is fine," he whispered as his hand moved again, tracing shapes across his husband's chest.

Sherlock slumped against John, their heads touching. He just wanted to be close to his husband right now. He closed his eyes, just trying to focus on anything but his own thoughts. There was a time he would have welcomed the distraction of a good, hard shagging but not anymore. He really did feel like their relationship had grown past that.

No shagging. Sherlock didn't want it and John probably didn't need it. They would have to go back to the flat and be parents. Difficulty walking might impede on all their plans. "Stop thinking," he whispered as his legs tightened around his husband. "Think about...the first time we snuggled," he said softly. His finger slowed for a second, changing to start drawing a triangle. "In that hospital. You were so bloody protective and let me sleep against you."

Was John talking? Sometimes he lost himself in thoughts so thoroughly, he wondered how many conversations he had missed with his husband. Sherlock relaxed against the bed and looked up at John. He was doing a lousy job of taking care of John right now. The first time they snuggled. That got a small smile. "I love you."

"I love you too," John replied with a small smile of his own. "When I kissed you the first time? I kind of remember it. Your eyes got all big and then I fell asleep...but it was good." He giggled and tilted his head to place a slight kiss on his husband's cheek. "And I was drugged, all loopy, and you still stayed there." There, maybe now he could get Sherlock to focus on something happy.

It had been his fault John had been in that hospital at all, but his husband was trying to make him feel better. No need to bring that up. "I am glad you did." Sherlock lifted a hand to caress John's cheek. Just focus on here and now. He wasn't going to let his thoughts consume him. It would just get him in trouble again. He could already feel the familiar itch. No damn it. Never again.

"I am always glad I did," John whispered as he turned his head and placed a gentle kiss against Sherlock's palm. "Me getting shot, it happened for a reason. Where would we be without that?" A moment before his tongue darted out and ran across his husband's skin before he pulled away. "I wouldn't be here with you right now, we wouldn't have a family. We would probably still be dancing around each other in the flat and I would still be wanking in the shower like a bloody idiot."

"Yeah. Maybe. Probably." Sherlock dropped his hand back down to his side. "Keep talking to me? Please." He closed his eyes a moment, hoping it would help clear his mind. When it didn't, he opened them again staring up at John. "I am thinking about drugs again. Help me…?" His voice was weak and he dropped his gaze. Even now he was still struggling with the withdrawals, but at least they happened more infrequently.

John lifted a hand and ran it gently through his husband's hair. "Scotland," he whispered as he wrapped a curl around his finger and gently pulled away. "The first morning when we woke up. You were just staring at me and when I looked up at you...you smiled. I just laughed and pressed into your chest. You messed up my hair and said something about me being adorable when I slept. You watched me all night, you said. I will never forget that."

Sherlock smiled. "I like watching you sleep." It was true. There was something peaceful about it. Usually anyway, as long as John didn't have any nightmares. His hand reached back up and he began running his fingers through his husband's hair. There. Maybe that would help him. It had helped calm him in the past at least.

"On the rare occasion that you sleep, I do enjoy watching you sleep too," John whispered, closing his eyes at the feeling of Sherlock's hand in his hair. They must have looked quite odd. John with his hand in Sherlock's hair and vice versa. "It makes me feel safe when I know you are with me, even if you aren't sleeping." He leaned forward and gave Sherlock a quick, gentle kiss.

Sherlock smiled up at John. "I like being next to you when you sleep," he admitted. There. Better. Much better really. His thoughts weren't threatening to consume him anymore. He leaned up so he could kiss his husband on the lips slowly, gently biting the bottom lip. Was it too late to shag or had he ruined that chance?

John smiled and returned his husband's kiss, nipping at Sherlock's upper lip in response. Slow. It was slow and warm, Sherlock's lips were soft. Fuck. Now he was getting an erection and his husband didn't want to shag. He let his hips push back slightly so Sherlock couldn't feel the bulge in the front of his jeans, easily continuing the kiss. If he kept his erection away from his partner then Sherlock wouldn't feel forced. "Not tired," he said breathlessly as he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. "But I can try to take a nap, sleep next to you. Want to sleep on top of you tonight."

Sherlock moaned into the kiss. Oh. John wanted to nap? Of course he had missed out on his chance to shag his husband. He ignored the growing erection and closed his eyes. "Sure…yeah…that would be good." If that was what his husband wanted, then he was going to accept it.

Well, Sherlock didn't sound so enthusiastic. John licked his lips and glanced down, tensing slightly when he noticed the growing bulge in his husband's trousers. Right. How could he think that they both would be able to keep it in their trousers? "Or we could..." He trailed off and kissed Sherlock again, his hand moving to palm his husband gently through his trousers. They both were aroused and there was no way he was going to let them both lay in a bed like this.

"Oh God yes," Sherlock moaned into the kiss and lifted his hips into the man above him. So good. He didn't care who shagged who at this point. He just wanted John. He continued to kiss his husband eagerly, tongue moving into John's mouth. He finally broke the kiss to talk. "Who's shagging who? It doesn't matter to me Love."

They weren't going hard. Sherlock probably wouldn't let them. If John got shagged he would want it rough, would want it to knock him out so he could sleep rested against his husband. "Slow," he muttered, more to himself than anything. "I should probably shag you," he managed to say once he caught his breath. "Because if you shag me I want it rough. With you...slow. I want to talk to you and kiss you, watch you beneath me." He moved to nip at Sherlock's bottom lip.

"Okay, whatever you want to do." Sherlock didn't have a preference this time around, so whatever John wanted was fine by him. He bucked up into the man above him with a moan. God, he just wanted to get shagged _now_. To have his husband inside of him. "Yes, want you. Love feeling you inside of me."

John smiled down at his husband, turning his head to start placing slow kisses on the underside of Sherlock's jaw. "I love you," he whispered softly as he reached between them to start undoing the buttons of the soaked shirt. "I love you so much, Sherlock. God, look at you." He dropped his head to meet his husband's lips as he peeled the man's shirt from his chest, both of his hands running over the slightly damp skin.

Sherlock shivered reflexively from his damp skin being exposed to the air. He had forgotten his clothes had been drenched during the bath. He ignored it and returned the kiss with moan. "Love you," he finally murmured back. He wrapped his arms around John, fingers scratching lightly at his husband's back.

Scratching. Fuck, now John couldn't control himself at all. His hips snapped forward roughly, a shaky moan escaping his lips. Gentle. He had to keep it gentle or it wouldn't be more than shallow make-up sex. He could do that, it wouldn't be difficult. "Shit." He turned his head and bit down gently on his husband's neck, his hips rutting against Sherlock quickly as his hands fisted into the blankets on either side of his partner's head.

Sherlock moaned from the bite. God, he didn't want slow and gentle anymore. He whimpered, bucking up to John with desire. "Want you. Please." He wanted his husband so bad now. Was it normal to go from not being horny at all to full throttle aroused? He began scratching desperately at John's back.

There was no way he could contain himself now. John ripped himself away from Sherlock with a gasp, grabbing the bottle of lube from the drawer in the bedside table. Blueberry. Something Sherlock had insisted on multiple times. He pulled his shirt off, his trousers and pants quickly following, before completely undressing his husband. "Want you. God, want to be inside of you." He smeared the lube on to his fingers sloppily and easily started prepping Sherlock with two fingers.

Sherlock moaned loudly, arching into John's fingers. Oh God. That smell. Blueberry. "Fuck. Yes. Please. John, need you." He was begging and he didn't even care. His husband was all he could think about. He bucked up to the man roughly with another whimper. He continued to scratch, fingers scraping harshly.

Begging. That was the end of any self control that John had. He knew Sherlock wasn't fully prepped but the man was writhing beneath him like a madman. "Right. Yeah," he whispered roughly, smearing some lube on his erection in several tight strokes before he met his husband's gaze. "M-Might hurt," he whispered as he met Sherlock's lips in a slow kiss, entering his partner in one swift motion. God, that was amazing.

Sherlock arched up into John with a loud shout. It hurt at first but he didn't care. It still felt amazing. "Yes, John. God..." He trailed off with a whimper. His fingers faltered from his husband's back, in his haze of ecstasy. He writhed into the man above him, trying to keep in time with John's thrusts.

All John could do was move fast, press himself as deep as he could into Sherlock with a grunt. It was clear his husband was enjoying it so he kept going, turning his head to lightly bite against the tendon he could see in Sherlock's neck. Perfect. Sherlock was bloody perfect. His hips started to move faster, the headboard of their guest bed smacking against the wall with each of his thrusts. He moaned loudly into his partner's neck and gripped the sheets beneath them tighter.

Sherlock moaned, finally matching John's pace with some control and effort. "John…" He trailed off with a moan, no longer able to form a coherent thought at the moment. His hands were now tangled in the sheets as he continued to moan out his husband's name with each thrust. Was that the headboard banging on the wall? He smirked at the thought, suddenly determined to make this one crack too. "H-harder," he managed to stutter out.

Harder? Jesus. John was certainly getting a workout. He tensed, his hips stuttered for a second, and he moved faster, harder. The headboard was smacking against the wall louder now and paint chips were starting to flake off and on to their mattress. "F-Fuck." He groaned and sucked against his husband's neck. "Fuck, Sherlock..." His hips moved again, pushing both of them up slightly on the bed.

Sherlock closed his eyes, moaning loudly. "Yes…John…" His fingers clawed and tangled at the sheets below him, as he thrust his hips up into his husband in tandem with the movements above him. This was feeling amazing. They had been shagging roughly a lot lately, was that healthy? Fuck it. He didn't care right now. All that mattered was how wonderful things were in his cloud of arousal.

At the rate they were going it didn't surprise John that he didn't last as long as he usually did. He came with a shout, ending with a moan of Sherlock's name before collapsing on top of his husband. He couldn't help it. His arms had given out and he knew he was heavier than Sherlock but, Christ, he felt like he could sleep for an entire day now. "Good," he managed to get out through several pants. "God, yes." He reached between them lazily, grabbing his husband's erection and starting the best strokes he could manage.

Sherlock was breathing heavily, even though John was doing almost all the work. "Yes…very good…" He trailed off with a moan at his husband's hand on his cock. Being in a crazed, haze of excitement it didn't take long to get him off. He moaned out John's name, his body finally stilling except for the rapid rising and falling of his chest. The headboard hadn't been broken but he couldn't really complain or be disappointed by anything that had just happened. "Love you," he managed to murmur. One hand reached up slowly to scratch lightly through his husband's hair.

"Mmph." John buried his face into his pillow as his body continued to relax, almost completely limp. He was getting too old for that. "Lof you," he muttered the best he could, one hand moving slowly up the bed to rest over his husband's heart. He had wanted to fall asleep curled against Sherlock, head on the man's chest, but now he could hardly move. It was a typical thing to do, falling asleep after sex, but he couldn't help it. He tried to fight it, opening his eyes to study his husband for a long moment before the shut and a soft snore echoed through the room.

Sherlock smiled. Christ, he was sore now. John was sleeping, so he didn't want to risk trying to move to a more comfortable position. He would just suck it up and suffer through it. He had certainly been through worse in his life. This was a minor discomfort compared to some of the other things he had endured over the last few years. He wasn't tired but maybe if he kept running a hand through his husband's hair it would keep John calm during the slumber. Hopefully no nightmares for his husband.


	27. Chapter 27

It was a quick nap compared to how long John felt like he could have slept. An hour later he slowly opened one eye, his breath catching slightly as he stretched and groaned. His muscles protested slightly to the movement and he even winced with the slight discomfort before red traveled quickly across his cheeks. If he felt like that then Sherlock must feel like Hell. "Oi, you all right?" He dropped a hand to rest gently on Sherlock's cheek, concern taking over his gaze.

Sherlock watched John with a slight frown. Right. His husband was getting older now. He had been selfish and begged for a rough shagging. He gave John a small, reassuring smile. "Still sore, but I am fine otherwise." The hand was still in his husband's hair, fingers trailing through the soft bristles lightly.

"And you watched me sleep," John whispered with a broad smile. He was fairly sure his day couldn't get any better. "Might need an Aspirin before we jump off and do anything else," he added with a soft chuckle. It was common practice for him now, though. Carrying around those bloody pills just in case.

The prospect of doing anything else the rest of the day was not appealing to Sherlock. Should he apologize to John for asking for such a hard shagging? No. It would just make his husband self conscious of their age gap. The age difference didn't bother him by any means, it never had, but now he started to wonder if they should keeping shagging like this. Would John notice if he tried to get them to slow down a bit?

"You are thinking," John whispered as he pulled one arm up to pillow it under his head. The other shifted slightly, moving his hand gently over his husband's cheek as the pad of his thumb traced Sherlock's cheekbone. "Might I be allowed to know what your thoughts are?" He smiled warmly and moved his head to give his husband a slow, gentle kiss. Still tired, his body was still struggling to move normally. That had really taken it out of him.

Shit. Would it start a fight if he said something? Would it force John to face his mortality? Sherlock sighed at his thoughts. "I...worry about you sometimes is all…" Mostly the truth. Knowing John, his husband would pry further. Should he just get it over with? He could already hear John yelling at him in his head. "I shouldn't have pushed you to shag me so hard," he muttered. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the possible oncoming storm.

Worry was normal. John worried about Sherlock all of the time. The second statement, though...John felt his heart sink. Oh. Right. There was a bit of an age gap and the Army certainly hadn't been nice to him. _That_. He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze locked intently on his husband. "If I hadn't been willing to accept the consequences I wouldn't have done it," he whispered with a sure, lop-sided smile. "I would have told you no, my dear." No yelling. Every morning he woke up and looked in the mirror, knew how old he was getting. There was no need to take it out on his husband. "Why worry about me?"

Well, this was going a bit better than expected. Sherlock opened his eyes and turned his head to look at John. "I always worry about you and our children." It was a large part of the reason he had started cocaine. He wasn't used to having to worry about a family and now he did constantly. He hadn't known how to cope. All the changes in his life had eventually caught up to him and he made some really stupid decisions.

"Understandable," John whispered as he curled some of Sherlock's hair around his fingers. "But I've got some experience and for the most part I'm fine." Older but fine. The kids he understood a bit more. Hell, he worried about them constantly himself. "If you ever think you're pushing me then ask. I've still got a few good years left in me before we probably won't do that much anymore but...it was for you. I'm willing to take a sore back and shoulder for you."

Like usual, Sherlock had lost himself in thought and John speaking took a moment for his brain to process and finally notice. "Right. Of course." He didn't know what else to say, because his mind was tormenting him again. The stress of everything. The need for drugs. He didn't need any now by any means but just thinking about it using all over again made his skin crawl.

Not listening. Distracted. John bent his neck and pressed their foreheads together. "Shhh, focus on me," he whispered. The last thing they both needed was Sherlock going off again, thinking about stress and drugs. That wasn't going to happen ever again. He couldn't let it. "Look at me. Sherlock, you're fine. You're doing so well. Think about how proud Amy and Thomas are going to be once this is all over with."

Sherlock managed a soft smile. Of course his husband was there to save him. Whether be from himself or something else, John always came through for him. "I know. I just…I worry about everything now and you have to understand, I never worried about anything before you. I just…I have a hard time dealing with that. Things just caught up to me I guess and just thinking about using again…" He trailed off with a shrug. Communication, something they were both better at and seemed to work out for them.

John curled slightly, gently trapping Sherlock's arm between his knees and smiling. "I do understand that," he whispered as he turned his head a placed a soft kiss on the inside of his husband's wrist. "But that's what I'm here for. Every night when we lay down in bed, if you're there," it was a light joke and John can't help but grin, "And I want you to talk to me. Sherlock, I don't care if it's stupid or the most serious thing in the world. I want you to tell me. I know I'm old and will probably fall asleep but you can tell me while I snore on your shoulder. I assure you I'm still listening." Another grin before John moved forward and gave Sherlock a quick kiss.

Sherlock nestled his head into John, always enjoying the closeness they shared. It was going to be lunch soon. Would he be expected to go downstairs? He honestly didn't want to leave the bed all day, especially with his husband next to him. He reached down and took John's hand, intertwining their fingers. "I love you."

John bit his bottom lip and blushed. Being this close to Sherlock always flustered him, made his stomach twist. "I love you too," he muttered as he squeezed his husband's hand. They were sprawled in bed, still naked, and the thought made him grin like an idiot. "Now, are you going to tell me about how you were thinking I was old?" A steady smirk tugged at his lips, nothing bit playful and curious. "It's fine, y'know. I _am_ old."

"That's it really. I just worry about you being older sometimes. We won't be able to shag like that forever, you know." Sherlock sighed, resting his forehead against John's shoulder. "I don't want to push you too hard." God, what if his husband had a heart attack or something while shagging because he was being a selfish idiot? Maybe they shouldn't shag anymore, just in case. Except, that would be impossible for them really.

Being the older one in the relationship certainly lent him to these worries from Sherlock. They were necessary, he supposed. "I'm forty-three," John replied with a shrug. Much older than Sherlock. The lucky bastard was still in his thirties. "I'm not worried about me being older. Sure, I'll probably be on medication at some point to just get it up but until then I am raking full advantage of having such an attractive husband. "You will never push me too hard. If I feel like I can't do something then I'll tell you. And if I'm about to have a heart attack then you'll save me." He joked with a smile and ran a hand gently down Sherlock's side.

Sherlock nodded slowly, squeezing John's hand. Why was it so easy for his husband to make jokes about age and health? It made him realize John was probably going to die first, if it was old age that got to them anyway. The thought scared him. How would he ever make it without his husband? The hand in John's, squeezed tightly as he buried his face in his husband's shoulder.

Had John said something wrong? He bit his bottom lip and moved his free arm to wrap tightly around Sherlock, turning slightly on his side so he could comfort his husband better. It was the truth. Sherlock, despite his lack of sleep and eating, was probably far healthier than him. His joints creaked, his back was constantly sore. Getting up from a chair was already proving difficult. Hell, the last few times they'd run about London after some idiot he was fairly sure his legs were going to give out on him. Was that what worried Sherlock? That at this rate, if one of them didn't get fatally wounded, that he'd be gone first? He let his mouth twist to the side as he tightened his embrace on his husband. "I'm here."

Sherlock gave a slight nod. He just wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with John, to reassure himself that his husband was right there with him. Would someone interrupt them sometime soon? It always seemed to happen when he wanted to spend quality time with John. He curled into his husband a little tighter.

Comfort. That was the only thing Sherlock needed right now. "If you don't stop thinking I'm going to snog you breathless," he whispered with a smile against the top of his husband's head. "And that's not a threat, it's a promise." Another grin as he pulled his husband closer. There was a smile on his face until there was a soft knock at the door. Of course.

"Papa? Dada?" The door didn't open so somebody had told Amy not to. "I's tired an'...um, can I's come sleep with you? Uncle 'Croft asides I could."

"Mycroft," John growled into Sherlock's hair, looking at the comforter with a wince. They'd have to discard of that or she would question the obvious mess. And the blueberry smell. "Should probably get dressed before she questions why she doesn't have the same bits as us," he muttered as he leaned off the side of the bed and grabbed his pants, as well as Sherlock's.

Sherlock growled in frustration. Fucking Mycroft. All he had wanted was to spend time with John. His eyes narrowed as he finally got up and got dressed. He couldn't deal with this right now and he didn't want their daughter have to see him like this. When they were both dressed he fled the room, making sure not to run into little Sandi. He had needed his husband right now and his older brother had ruined that. Without John...he scratched at his arm. No... He slumped down against the nearest wall, he had barely made it to the top of the stairs. His mind was overcome with grief from earlier, the pain from the shagging didn't even register. His own mind was his worst enemy sometimes. Drugs would quiet his mind. No... His eyes squeezed shut tightly, trying desperately to shut out the thoughts.

John watched his husband with a frown, forcing a smile the moment he saw little Amy. "Hell there Baby Girl," he whispered as he picked her up. Clad in her puppy dog pajamas, her eyes slightly red. She had been crying. "Oh, honey," he whispered as he bounced the little girl on his hip. "It's all right. C'mon, let's lay down in Papa and I's big comfy bed." It didn't take too much to reach out and yank the dirty comforter back, tossing it on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Here we go." He set her down, she wobbled slightly on her feet, and stuck her thumb in her mouth as she wandered over to John's pillow. It took her a moment to sit without the use of one arm but she managed, curling into a ball and resting almost completely on her Daddy's pillow. "All right, there we go," John whispered as he followed her into the bed. He laid directly in front her, one arm curled under his head while the other ran gently through her hair. It didn't take long for her eyes to close and her breathing to even out.

"I bloody told you, Mycroft," Lestrade's voice carried up the stairs, clearly upset. He was shouting into the foyer. "Give them time alone. You weren't there last time he was going through this and you don't know wha-" The speech stopped suddenly when the Detective Inspector noticed his brother-in-law. Shit. "Sherlock," he mumbled, moving forward and crouching in front of the man. He had caught the end of that arm scratch, noticed it with a pale face. "You are okay."

Sherlock looked up at Lestrade with unfocused eyes. "No I'm not..." He trailed off, startled by how raw and cracked his voice was. He didn't have the energy to run away again. He slumped further into the wall, eyes closing again. He sighed, the Detective Inspector had seen him worse than this he supposed. "Can I just be alone please? And tell Mycroft to just avoid me for awhile." He growled his older brother's name out.

Alone. That probably wasn't the best idea. The resounding lack of John meant Amy was in their room and he was there with her. "You and I both know I can't do that," Lestrade whispered as he shifted and sat back against the wall opposite of his friend. "The leaving you alone part. I'll gladly keep your prat of a brother away from you," he muttered with a bit of a smile. "I won't be in your personal space but I've done this before. I'm staying right here, mate."

Right. Of course. Sherlock gave a small nod of understanding. "Thought I was doing better, that I was over this..." He trailed off, not willing to go into what had started this to begin with. Would John be upset he left so suddenly or would his husband understand why? The thought of Amy seeing him like a complete mess didn't set well with him at all.

Lestrade bit his bottom lip and tilted his head slightly. Sherlock had rarely talked the first time h had been using but now he was at least admitting that he wasn't doing too well, that he might need a bit of help. "What happened?" He asked softly. It was worth a shot. Maybe talking to him would help. Having John around had definitely helped the man in front of him.

Sherlock shrugged, his eyes remaining closed. At least his mind wasn't racing anymore. And God his arse hurt. He stood up slowly, with a slight groan. He thought about going back to John but he wasn't quite ready to face his husband again. There were a lot of places he could go, but nothing really came to mind. He started off down the stairs, with a slight limp.

Lestrade rolled his eyes and stood slowly, following after Sherlock with a bit of a knowing smirk. This wasn't new by any means. In fact, he had really expected it. Going downstairs, though, meant Mycroft. He followed his brother-in-law as closely as possible, glaring at his husband as the man stood from the couch in the living room.

"Sherlock," Mycroft muttered, taking a step forward.

"Myc', don't. Stay there," Greg barked, eyes narrowed and body tensed. "Just...stay there."

"You! You son of a bitch," Sherlock snarled. He moved forward to roughly shove Mycroft in the chest, completely ignoring Lestrade now.

Thomas walked in through the front door and froze in the foyer. He glanced between his two uncles and Daddy. He bit his bottom lip uncertainly. "Daddy?"

Mycroft moved back into the wall with grunt, looking at his younger brother with narrowed eyes. "What? She was crying, what else was I supposed to do?" His voice was calm, his eyes studying Sherlock intently. "I can't tell her no when she's asking for you and John. I don't care if you're shagging, you're _parents_ and your first responsibility shouldn't be making sure the whole bloody manor can hear you!"

Lestrade tensed, looking at Thomas for a long moment. This wasn't exactly the best time for the boy to see Sherlock. "Thomas, mate," he moved forward and crouched in front of Thomas with a smile. "It's fine. It's all fine. D'you want to go outside, mate?"

Sherlock flinched visibly, the words were like a slap in the face. Everythking Mycroft said was true. He was a horrible father. Putting his own desires over his children. He was just a selfish idiot. "You are right. I'm sorry." His voice was a hoarse whisper. Shit. He really needed John right now. "I'll just go...they...they are better off without me..." He took a shuddering breath and then walked out the front door.

Thomas began crying immediately. "Daddy don't go." It was too late. H sniffled and glared at his Uncle. "Why are you always so mean to him! You're his older brother, but you are nothing more than a bully! Always yelling at him and judging him." He couldn't ever imagine treating Amy like that. Family was important to him. At an early age he learned just how quickly it could be taken away. He ran out the front door, leaving it wide open without a care. "Daddy! Come back! Please?"

Mycroft just studied Thomas, not showing any emotion on his face. It felt like he was far from a bully and simply trying to help Sherlock the best he could, in the way that would be the most effective. He glanced at Lestrade before clearing his throat and turning on his heels. There was no need to run after his younger brother, it was a lost cause to him.

Lestrade tensed and looked up the moment he heard John dashing down the stairs. He moved forward with his brother-in-law, picking Thomas up off the ground with a grunt. "C'mon, Dad's going to get him," he whispered to his son. God, he hoped Amy was still asleep.

John darted out the door, glancing at his husband's retreating form. "Sherlock," he said breathlessly as he finally caught Sherlock, cursing the man's longer legs. He easily grabbed the back of the man's shirt, gently pulling him back. "Oi, knock it off," he muttered with narrowed eyes as he stood in front of his husband. "Stop this. Look at me. You're fine, your brother is a dick," and, fuck, Thomas had seen that violence. Not the best example for a boy struggling with fights in school. "I'm here."

Sherlock heard Thomas calling after him and stopped but didn't turn around. He couldn't let his son see him crying. He heard the boy yelling at Lestrade. Thomas was going on about how much he hated Uncle Mycroft. Any other time he would have smirked but his heart wasn't in it right now. He turned away from John as he cleared his throat. "I am going to stay at hotel. I can't share the same space with my brother at the moment and it is probably too soon for me to stay at the flat. I am still having withdrawals. If someone wants to stay with me, fine whatever. Just as long as it isn't Mycroft." He still had the pack of cigarettes his husband had given him. He pulled one out, lit up and inhaled deeply.

That made John's stomach drop for entirely selfish reasons. Sherlock wouldn't be home, would be at some hotel far away from the family. He bit his bottom lip and watched Sherlock for a long moment before taking several steps around him, gently pulling the cigarette from his mouth, and giving him a slow kiss. Husbands were understanding, didn't fight. This was communication and this was Sherlock stepping up and doing the best he could for his family. "All right," he whispered with a smile as he pulled away, putting the cigarette back in his husband's mouth. "Lestrade will stay with you, he's just as mad at Mycroft and will probably welcome it." He ran a hand gently down Sherlock's lean stomach and nodded. "I'm proud of you."

Sherlock was surprised, pleasantly so, by John's words. "Have I told you lately how amazing you are, Love?" He gave his husband a small but genuine smile. "I will probably get into one of those narcotics programs while I am away too. I am sure Lestrade has a number or address he can give me." He finished the cigarette, threw the butt on the ground and crushed it under his heel. "You should go check on Baby Girl." He leaned down and gave John a quick kiss. "I'll call you tonight. I have something I wanted to talk to you about, but I had forgotten about it until now. It's about work and what I should do next. I wanted to talk it over with you before I made a decision."

Work. John nodded a bit and reached a hand out, weakly grabbing Sherlock's. "I'll have my mobile with me. You know what time the kids go to bed so call me then," he muttered. Being sad wasn't going to get him anywhere. He needed to keep his head up, stay positive because his husband was working on getting better. "Don't shag Lestrade. I know he's got more gray hair than me but resist the temptation," he said with a light smile and a chuckle.

"Oi," Greg muttered as he came to Sherlock's side and held out a credit card with a smirk. "I'm thinking posh tonight, what about you?" He said with a grin as John brushed past them, offering his hand to Thomas so they could go upstairs and check on Amy.

Sherlock gave John a faint smirk to John and he turned to watch his husband leave with their son. Even after they were inside he stared at the door awhile. "Posh is fine," he finally muttered as he turned around. "Looks like you are stuck babysitting me again anyway, Lestrade." He eyed the black car. It should be normal by now, but he still found it annoying. With a sigh he got in, staring out the window but not really seeing London as they drove by.


	28. Chapter 28

"Better staying with you than being with that git," Lestrade replied simply as he studied Sherlock intently. "Hell, a posh hotel might do us both some good. No sleep talking, no pushing me for a quick shag before work," he muttered more to himself than to his companion. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled a small card from it, flipping it slightly between his fingers before clearing his throat. "Here," he stated as he extended his arm and put the card in Sherlock's lap. "'S a card for a narcotics program. Best in London."

Sherlock took the card with a slight shrug, still staring out the window. "He is right about me. I care more about myself than the children. I should be back there, showing her how to plant seeds in that ridiculous fairy orb thing, not staying at some hotel." He broke his gaze from the window to glance down at the card, before sticking it in the inside pocket of his coat.

"You should also be taking care of yourself," Lestrade said softly. There was no way he was going to say anything to upset Sherlock, no matter how right he was. "John will tell her something, you will be fine." He nodded to reassure both of them. John had a way of doing things like that. "Getting yourself better isn't selfish, Sherlock. It's smart and will work out down the road. Just think, couple weeks from now you will have Amy taking care of those bloody little plants and you'll be on fairy lookout."

Sherlock shrugged again but gave a slight nod. He couldn't help but smirk at the comment about fairies and he finally turned his head to look at Lestrade, one eyebrow raised. "Soon she will be losing teeth and getting visits from the tooth fairy. You know, the things parents come up with to tell their children is ridiculous. The tooth fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny. Or maybe I just don't understand, we never got told any of that growing up. Dad didn't allow us to be children really." He frowned at that, his attention once more going to the window.

Lestrade shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat with a nod. He had heard it from Mycroft and it wasn't a surprise. "That's why you've got them now, Sherlock. Thomas and Amy. You've got a chance to do what is right, what you never got." It felt odd having this conversation again. Mycroft had voiced the same concerns. This was definitely more of John's area than his own. "And you're already doing so well, even with Siger. God, you're an amazing Uncle and Father and you don't even realize it."

"That's what John says too." Sherlock just had a hard time believing it sometimes, especially when he was getting into his head like this. His own brother didn't believe in him. When did he start caring what Mycroft thought or said? He sighed and when the car came to a stop he got out without another word. He was going to check in, but Lestrade had the credit card and if the Detective Inspector wanted to pay then he was okay with that.

Lestrade went straight to the check out desk, the woman taking the credit card without question and handing it back with a set of keys. The woman said something about his usual suite and Greg nodded before glancing back at Sherlock. "C'mon," he muttered as he moved toward the room. First floor. He pushed the door open with a sigh, tossed his keys on the nearest bed, and glanced back at Sherlock. "It's true. Treat them like you always wanted and you're doing it all right."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows but followed after Lestrade. He looked around the room. "Stay here often?" Was his older brother and the Detective Inspector having frequent marital problems? He wasn't tired but he slumped down onto the bed, sprawling out onto it.

Lestrade shrugged, glancing at Sherlock. "Not because we fight," he amended softly, knowing exactly what his brother-in-law was thinking. "After tough cases I can't go home. It's tough to see murders and all that and go back to a family. One or two nights after a case I stay here so I'm not bringing it all home around Siger." They had decided on it after a particularly nasty shag right after a case that resulted in Mycroft needing stitches after Lestrade bit into his shoulder. "'S for the best, really."

Sherlock nodded a bit. What now? It wasn't that he and Lestrade didn't get along, they just usually talked about work related things. A no smoking room. Of course. He probably shouldn't pick the habit back up anyway. His brother-in-law probably wouldn't let him get drunk either. He looked at the clock. Lunchtime. Still several hours to go until John put the children down for bedtime.

Queue the awkward silence. Lestrade shifted slightly on his feet, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and running a hand through his hair. "If it makes you feel any better," he muttered with a shrug. An attempted at conversation. "I punched him one time. Right in the jaw. Bruised 'im. I...dunno, thought it might make you a smile since it's Mycroft and we're both pissed at him." A small grin tugged at his lips.

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade with a smirk. "I don't blame you, I've been known to punch him on occasion." The Detective Inspector and his brother had a weird relationship in his opinion. He had never punched John before. Maybe some rough shoving and unkind words but nothing as physical as what his brother-in-law and Mycroft got into at times.

"I imagine but you also aren't his husband," Lestrade muttered with a frown, rubbing the back of his neck. "He...God, he complained about how annoying Siger's crying was. We were laying in bed and I'd finished a kidnapping, murder case of a four year old. Some Mum and Dad lost their kid and here Mycroft was complaining. So I turned in bed and..." He pushed his fist into the air and pushed a breath nosily through his teeth. "One of the reasons we've got this room." He fell back on to the bed with a sigh. "Haven't almost killed him, though," he said with a bit of a chuckle, alluding to the incident from the island.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, glaring darkly at Lestrade. "That wasn't John's fault!" He was sitting up on the bed now, already worked up in a huff with his breathing heavy. He had never been upset or blamed his husband for what happened and he was quick to defend John when anyone said something about it.

Right. Apparently the wrong thing to say. Lestrade tensed and sat up himself. He wasn't too keen on a recovering drug addict catching him on his back. "Oi, I was kidding," he muttered as he studied his brother-in-law. "Calm down, deep breath. It won't do any good to get all worked up right now." He tensed as his mobile went off. He pulled it slowly from his pocket, studied it for a moment, and tossed it behind him on the mattress. "I know the story."

Sherlock gave a slight nod, forced himself to relax and laid back down on the bed. He sighed trying to calm down still. Just think about something else. Getting upset, especially without John there to comfort him, would just make him want drugs all over again. Right. Don't think about that. Anything but that. He closed his eyes, hoping it would help him focus on a different thought process.

"Thomas told me he wants to grow up and be a detective," Lestrade started softly, keeping his gaze locked on the floor. At first it had been exciting and Greg couldn't have been more proud. When he asked his nephew what department the boy simply rolled his eyes. _Consulting_ Detective. "He wants to grow up and be you, Sherlock. Just like you. Hair, coat, happy relationship...it's incredible."

If the children were smart, they would grow out of the stage of wanting to be like him. He wasn't sure if Thomas was smart because of the boy's likely relation to Moriarty somehow or through hard work in wanting to be like 'Daddy.' Sherlock turned his head, eyes opening as he looked at Lestrade. "Yeah…I know…" He supposed most parents would be proud or excited about that, but he was worried about all the pitfalls that came with being a genius.

That was a look Lestrade could recognize on the face of any Holmes. Fear. Worry. It was rare but sometimes... "That worries you," he muttered softly, moving to lay on his back and meet Sherlock's gaze. "Is there something I need to be looking into? Tell me and I'll do it, Sherlock. I'm not going to let you handle this on your own. Not you or John. If something is wrong then tell me." It was a rough approach, certainly, but sometimes that was the only way to get through to his brother-in-law. He had learned that years ago. "I'm here for you."

Sherlock shrugged and then shook his head. "If you can figure out a way so my children don't make all the mistakes I have, that would be great." He managed a smirk but it faded quickly. "It is hard knowing everything sometimes. I know they want to be like me, but...they shouldn't...being a genius isn't really that great after awhile. Its fun at first because you are always the most clever person in the room but..." He trailed off, shrugging again.

"Raise them differently?" Lestrade suggested with a shrug. "Honestly, raise them differently than you were. John doesn't talk about being a soldier in front of them because he doesn't want them to even think about it at their age. Thomas doesn't actually know what your job entails, I don't think. He just thinks you look cool." After a moment he sat up and took several deep breaths. "I don't want Siger to know what I do. And, Hell, I don't even know what the fuck Mycroft does."

"I _do_ raise them differently than I was raised." Sherlock couldn't fathom raising the children like he was raised. He managed another smirk. "Probably better you don't know what Mycroft does, he might have to kill you otherwise. He wants me to work for the Government. Apparently I have become more popular being splashed all over the news, despite what is being said about me. Wouldn't have time for cases for the Yard or private cases." He still wasn't thrilled with the thought.

"Then don't worry about it. They are going to turn out just fine, you wait and see. Thomas will probably work for the Yard and, Hell, I imagine Amy becoming some sort of vet," Lestrade muttered with a sniff. Then there was his little Siger who would probably end up just like Mycroft, posh and all that, but with his voice. Rough but powerful. It made him smirk and snort slightly to himself. "I just worry about him...about him not coming back or something happening. He leaves for a week on a business trip and will come back with bruises. I'm always worried."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Bruises? Mycroft usually stayed at the office, not go out and do things first hand. He had people who would get their hands dirty for his older brother. Curious. What could be going on? "I am sure everything is fine." Except it probably wasn't. He would have to ask Mycroft about it, although he wasn't entirely sure if his older brother would tell him.

That was a lie if Lestrade had ever heard one. Nothing was fine. He had no idea what his husband did and coming back with bruises, some of them darker than he'd ever seen, was not _fine_. "It's not, really. He's my husband and watching him wince to just pick up a bloody tea cup isn't what I had imagined. But you two are fighting now which means he'll just go on another trip, come back worse than he left, and hide it all. Every time you two fight he goes on some trip for work. Just ups and leaves. I hate it when you two fight."

Curiouser and curiouser indeed. Sherlock frowned slightly at Lestrade's words. He was _definitely_ going to say something to Mycroft now. Maybe he could figure some things out by asking a few questions. "How long has this been going on?" It seemed unlikely now the trips had anything to do with work if his older brother randomly disappeared after having fights with him.

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock for a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before shrugging a bit. "Dunno, nearly a year I would think," he muttered as he lifted his leg up to start undoing his shoelaces. "Fight will happen and two days later he and Anthea are gone. Get a text in the morning, maybe a shag if I'm up early enough." At first he hadn't questioned it but with the alarming rate of injury Mycroft had been returning with, on top of the fact that Siger was constantly asking where his father had gone twisted him stomach, he couldn't ignore it anymore. "Makes me think he hates me or something."

Sherlock decided to let the subject drop, merely nodding. It was something to certainly think about. What the hell was Mycroft up to? Were the fights connected or just coincidental? His older brother took Anthea, so it could be work related. He sighed, letting himself forget about it for now. It wouldn't do any good to worry about it now.

"Hell, you and John fight. Does he ever up and leave you after? Just go to a pub or something?" Lestrade glanced at Sherlock and sighed. Was it normal? Or was he actually a bad husband and Mycroft just couldn't bring himself to tell him? He groaned and stood up, pacing the room and shaking his head. "We're just horrible, aren't we? Me and Mycroft? We just... I dunno..." He stopped pacing and looked at the floor. It probably wasn't best to be talking to Sherlock, of all people, about his marriage.

"You do remember that John took off his ring and I went running off without shoes on or what about the time we got in a fight and John went to the pub while Sarah was still pregnant?" Sherlock sighed as well, those were memories he just assumed forget about. "Mycroft...he's probably just having a hard time showing how he feels. A Holmes trait, if you will." Or maybe his older brother just wanted what he had? Probably best not to share that theory.

All of that had happened so long ago and Lestrade figured they had moved past that. Communication in their relationship had been amazing, far better than the communication between he and Mycroft. "I don't want to lose him, Sherlock. I nearly lost him years back because of my own stupidity and selfishness but...I love him. I really love him." His voice cracked and he looked away from his brother-in-law.

"You should be telling _him_ that then. There was a time I would have scoffed at the idea about talking about things, but it works. It really does. Take a month off together and go somewhere. John and I could watch Siger. Mum and Mrs. Hudson would be there to help us if need be. Even Harry, too." When did he become the go to guy for relationship advice? It was still a strange thought to Sherlock.

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock because, of course, he was right. He was just too afraid to speak up and ruin Mycroft's schedule, too scared to lose him by simply talking. "Right," he muttered before moving into the bathroom.

_Nap time in the Watson-Holmes flat. You all right? -JW_

John sat back in his chair and closed his eyes with a bit of a sigh.

Sherlock smirked as he watched Lestrade walk away. His mobile went off, and saw that he had a message from John. He glanced at the clock, surprised at how much time had gone by. He typed out a reply and hit send.

_Fine, even though I am playing marriage counselor. How are you and the children? - SH_

A pause and he sent another text.

_I miss you. -SH_

John snorted slightly as he read the text. Sherlock a marriage counselor? Good one. He read both of the texts and cleared his throat, slowly typing out a reply.

_They're good. Nice and asleep. I'm doing the best I can. Miss you. I can practically hear you pacing the living room of the flat. -JW_

He held the phone for a long moment, just staring at the screen as the message sent. God, he really missed his husband. When had they become so dependent on each other?

_I miss you, too. Please don't murder Greg. -JW_

Sherlock read the messages and then began typing out a reply.

_I am sure you are doing a great job. –SH_

A brief pause before he sent another message.

_Things are fine with Lestrade for now, he hasn't annoyed me yet. –SH_

Bah. Screw texting. He called John. Hearing his husband's voice was something he needed right now.

John had been half-way through his first text when his mobile started ringing. Leave it to his husband to be too impatient to wait for a bloody text. "Oi, I was typing," he muttered with a laugh as he scratched gently as his knee. "Couldn't wait?" He sat back with a small sigh, licking his lips for a long moment. "I miss you," he whispered. God, just hearing Sherlock's voice had calmed him down. "What do you want to tell me about work?"

Sherlock smirked and shrugged, even though John couldn't see it. "No, it couldn't." He smirked some more before it faded quickly. Right. Work stuff. "Mycroft wants me start working for the Government, possibly the Queen. It would pay six figures, two cases and we are set for a couple of months. I wouldn't have to take cases from the Yard or private ones. It would be less stressful. I just…I don't really want to do it, but I wanted to talk to you about it before I turned it down. If you want me to I will…" He would hate every minute of it, but he was a family man now and what he wanted didn't really matter anymore. He couldn't be selfish now.

Oh. John cleared his throat and took several long moments to respond. Taking those cases meant more money, something they needed with two kids. But cases from the Yard...private cases...that was what had made Sherlock. What did he say? "I don't know, Sherlock." He cleared his throat and pressed the bottoms of his feet together. "Those cases, the money...it would be nice. Certainly less stressful." The last thing his husband needed right now was stress. "But I don't want you doing anything that you aren't happy doing. That isn't any good for you. Do whatever you want, love. I won't make decisions for you."

Sherlock was quiet awhile, eyes closed in thought. When he opened his eyes again, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Maybe. I just want to see if we can make things work without doing it. I would hate it and be miserable doing it John. Let's see if we can make things work with changing hours and working only during the week. And if you get a job, start a practice or work as surgeon…we should be okay. If not, I'll just…I'll do it then…" God he hated that idea so much.

"I'll get a job, Sherlock," John replied immediately. "I will do it so you don't have to take those stupid jobs and hate everything you are doing." No way in Hell was he going to make his husband do something he hated simply because they needed money. They would figure it out. "You'll never have to do it. I promise." There. Now the work talk was out of the way and he could focus on the sound of his husband's voice instead of the actual topic. "You sound tired."

Sherlock smiled. "I love you." John was amazing. Tired? "Not physically. I got a good nap in on the couch. Just feeling drained mentally and even a little emotionally with everything going on." He was away from his family. Fighting drug addiction. Shit. He still needed to look into that narcotics group Lestrade had recommended. He just wanted to go home and be next to his husband.

"I imagine," John said with a bit of a smile, standing up and moving into the kitchen. He winced when he noticed Hamish near the corner of the kitchen. "Bloody cat," he muttered into the phone as he started the kettle and grabbed a mug. "Thomas wore that coat to bed. Amy wants one now," he stated with a bit of a snort. It was forced, nervously. "She wants the necklace you wear." Dog tags. She wanted bloody dog tags.

Sherlock smirked. "Make sure to feed that over grown feline or he will bite your toes when you are sleeping tonight." The smirk twitched into a slight frown. He couldn't really blame John for not wanting the children to be like him. "She was fascinated with them as an infant." He thought for a moment, trying to recall what had happened to them as she got older. "Whatever happened to those replicas that were made?" When John had gone back to Afghanistan an extra pair had been made for him to wear.

John exhaled loudly into the phone and let his head fall back. "In the closet with my uniforms," he muttered brokenly. Did Sherlock want to give the extra set to their daughter? Hell, he wasn't going to say no if that's what his husband really wanted. "Should we give them to her, you think? It would probably make her entire life. Might be better than some stuffed dog."

Sherlock found it pretty much impossible to deny any request their daughter made. Except, the dog tags weren't his to give away. They were John's. "If you want. They are yours to do what you want. If you don't want her to have them, it is understandable." It would make little Sandi smile though and just the thought of Amy smiling broadly was enough to make him smile.

"We probably should or we will never hear the end of it," John said softly as the kettle started to go off. He slowly poured himself a cup and let the tea brew. "I don't want her getting any ideas. I swear if she even thinks about enlisting..." He trailed off with a frown as he took a sip. Too sweet. Hell, he couldn't make himself a good cuppa anymore. It seemed like only Sherlock knew how. "I miss you."

"She would love it I am sure." The thought of their daughter wanting to join the military wasn't even something he wanted to think about. It was too horrible and heart breaking. "I am sure Amy just wants them because I wear them, not because she wants to be in the Army. It is a phase, just like the puppies." Sherlock hoped so anyway. "I miss you too."

"Can you come home?" John asked weakly, setting his mug down in favor of wrapping an arm around himself. He was so hopelessly lost without Sherlock in the flat, struggling to even go into the bedroom. Hell, it hadn't even been a day. When had he become so dependent on his husband? "God, I just want you here. I am not going to be able to sleep tonight."

Sherlock wanted to say yes. To hang up the phone and run back home. "That probably wouldn't be a good idea. The withdrawals are infrequent but still there. I don't want the children having to see that. I shoved Mycroft in childish a fit. Things could be worse next time. When I go a full twenty-four hours without craving some kind of drug, I will come back to the flat." Shit. The next few days were going to be hell on both of them.

A full day? John loved Sherlock but that could take up to a week. A week of keeping the kids, of sleeping in an empty bed. No violin music, no aeroplane feedings for Amy. It was going to be horrid. "I understand." His selfish wants needed to be pushed back. Having Sherlock off of drugs was better than having a warm body to sleep next to at night. "But when you get back I am snuggling the Hell out of you."

"We will do more than just snuggle. I am going to shag you against that damned window finally." Sherlock smirked at the thought. He had wanted to have his husband pressed up against that glass for almost four years now. Just the thought was beginning to give him a hard on. Probably not the best of ideas right now, since Lestrade was in the bathroom and it wasn't like he could go anywhere for the kind of privacy he would want. Maybe after the phone call he could take a long shower.

The window. John turned to look at it and felt his heartbeat increase almost instantly. He had been so excited that he even went and found a video camera in their closet. "Found the camera, by the way. Small and compact. Could put it anywhere, really," he muttered as he shifted on his feet. No good to get an erection if his husband weren't around to help out. "And then I will snuggle the Hell out of you."


	29. Chapter 29

Five days. Five long days. Sherlock was finally coming home today. Thomas was at school and Mrs. Hudson had taken Amy for the afternoon. He couldn't wait to shag John into the window. The ride in the black car ride seemed to take longer than usual, probably because he was so anxious. He made his way up the stairs two at time in his excitement. He was already slinging his coat onto the couch by the time he stepped through the door. "Honey, I'm home."

It hadn't been easy trying to occupy himself but John had managed. Hunched over the stove stop, scrubbing away in an attempt to clean it after the debacle that had been dinner the previous night. But that...was Sherlock's voice. He looked up and nearly darted into the living room. "Sherlock?" He grinned like an idiot, tossing the dirty sponge behind him into the kitchen and moving forward. "Sherlock, God," he muttered as he embraced his husband and eagerly pressed his face into the man's chest.

Sherlock smiled and embraced John tightly. "God, I missed you so much." He bent his head and kissed the top of his husband's before letting his chin rest on it. He could just hold onto John like this for awhile and be perfectly fine with it. It had felt like forever since he had last held his husband like this.

Having Sherlock hold him this close made John smile like an idiot. He still smelled like Sherlock despite spending a week in some hotel. "Missed you," he muttered into his husband's chest with a chuckle. Sleeping alone had been tough and he had found himself out on the couch more than he would care to admit. But now with Sherlock back he could sleep soundly against the warmth that was Sherlock. "Love you."

"I love you too." Sherlock continued to hold onto John, his eyes closing in contentment. He finally released his husband, pulling away slightly so he could kiss John on the lips. He wasted no time to enter his husband's mouth. John tasted wonderful. He had missed being with his husband, kissing, everything really.

John moaned into the kiss, clutching at his husband's shirt as he opened his mouth without a second thought for Sherlock. Kissing. Jesus, Sherlock knew exactly what to do with his mouth, how to turn John's knees to jelly. He leaned heavily against Sherlock, exhaling shakily through his nose. Apparently they weren't wasting any time. He let his tongue move tentatively against Sherlock's.

Sherlock smirked, pleased. His arms wrapped around John once more, so he could pull his husband close to him again. His fast growing erection pressed into John causing him to moan into his husband's mouth. He hadn't really had the privacy needed to get off at all while away from the flat, so it didn't really surprise him he was turned on so quickly. Would John be up to shagging right away?

Already hard. Jesus, Sherlock's erection was against John's stomach. He was already a bit hard himself and couldn't help it. The kids were gone and, damn it, it had been a week. Using his hand in the shower wasn't the same. After a long moment he pulled away from the kiss, turning his head to suck at Sherlock's neck. "Now?" He asked shakily, still leaning heavily against his husband.

"Oh God yes." Sherlock was ready and apparently John as ready to go as well. "I want you so bad right now," he admitted. He moved his head to his husband's neck and began sucking and biting on it eagerly. He bucked his hips into John, moaning against the skin. He was looking forward to shagging his husband. The thought made him moan again, the bites becoming more aggressive in his excitement.

John gasped and backed up several steps, letting his back hit the window. Chilly. It was cold against his back even through his shirt. It was going to feel so amazing against the front of his body with Sherlock's warmth pressed behind him. "Want you i-inside of me," he whimpered at the rough bites at his neck. God, he wanted Sherlock so bad and he couldn't control it. His hips pressed forward slowly and rolled into his husband.

The window. Yes. Fuck _yes_. Did they have the camera handy? Sherlock suddenly wanted the shagging against the window and recording it. "Can I shag you against the window now?" His breath was thready and rough against his John's skin. He pressed his husband into the window roughly, his erection tight against his husband's stomach.

John grunted as he was pressed into the window, tensing his stomach against his husband's erection. "Please," he whispered as he clawed desperately at Sherlock's back. "Camera. It is in the bedroom," he muttered nervously. They were going to tape it. They were going to shag against the window and videotape it. "Nervous," he finally admitted.

"No need to be nervous. You will be too busy getting shagged by me to notice anything else." Sherlock smirked as he trailed his tongue along John's neck and up to his husband's ear to nibble a moment before pulling away. He smirked again and moved to the bedroom swiftly. He grabbed lubricant and after a moment found the camera. They were really going to do this, weren't they? He was so excited about it, it had been one of his fantasies for awhile now and they were finally going to do it. _And_ they were taping it. God, this was going to be amazing.

John watched Sherlock for a long moment and stood against the window, and then eyed the video camera. This was what Sherlock wanted. All for him and his husband was right. Once everything started he would probably forget about the camera. Now all he had to worry about was people seeing them from the sidewalk. Shagging. They hadn't been near each other for almost a week and now Sherlock was beyond excited. It would all be amazing.

Sherlock finally found a suitable place for the camera to be on. Hit record now? Set a timer? Was he just over thinking this? No time to think, just act. He hit the red button and moved quickly over to John. He pressed his husband roughly into the window again with an excited growl, as he began biting the unmarked side of John's neck.

"Ah!" John closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head to the side as his arms wrapped tightly around Sherlock. Ignore the camera. Once they started shagging then everything would be fine. "Good. 'S good," he muttered as he opened his eyes and looked directly at the camera. It was recording their every move. Did he moan louder? Make everything look better? He exhaled shakily and held his husband closer.

Sherlock lifted his head to look at John. "Relax. It is fine. No need to try so hard." He smiled and pressed his lips against his husband's. He moaned into the kiss as he pushed his hips against John once more. "Can't wait to be inside of you. Your naked body pressed against the glass and everyone will see what I get to come home to everyday."

Calm. John slowly returned the kiss and moaned softly. Sherlock's low voice was enough to force his eyes closed. Everything he said made his heart beat faster and suddenly he didn't want anything else. Just Sherlock. "Want you. God, I want you to pound into me and make me shout," he whispered. He didn't care if the camera couldn't pick it up. He reached between them and palmed Sherlock through his trousers.

Sherlock moaned, his knees almost buckling at the mere touch of John's hand on him. He whimpered, pressing into the touch. "I want you too," he moaned into his husband's ear. He began nibbling on it. Did they make things last a bit or get right down to the shagging? He was telling John not to be nervous or worry and here he was trying to make things perfect.

Right. Slow. If they were going to videotape this all then it should go slow. John swallowed hard and pulled his hand away from the bulge in Sherlock's trousers. "How bad do you want me, Sherlock?" Teasing. That was something he could do. He gently nudged his husband's head back so he could nibble on Sherlock's ear. "Tell me how bad, Sherlock. Tell me."

"Want you so badly. Please?" Sherlock moaned into John's ear. He had wanted to just shag his husband into oblivion into the window at the time he had first thought of it and here he was begging now. He didn't care though. He didn't mind begging. "Going to turn you around and take you from behind while I jerk you off." His lips moved back to John's neck and began to nip and suck once more.

"Slow or hard?" John asked with a growl as he pressed his hips tightly into Sherlock. "Want you to bite my shoulder, claw at my hips. Can you do that? Is that too much?" He reached blindly between them and started unbuttoning his husband's shirt. "Make me speechless. Want to be speechless. O-Only your name." He swallowed hard. He was hardly this forward but the video camera was making him a bit more bold.

"Hard. Shag you so hard you won't even be able to say my name." Sherlock was feeling cocky and confident right now. He had been waiting for this moment for a few years and after not shagging for a week he was he ready for a good, hard shag. He dropped his mouth onto John's shoulder and bit down roughly with a growl. His hands were pressed against the cool glass, fingers scratching without traction with small screeching noises under his finger tips.

"Ah!" John gasped and arched against his husband. "Fuck. Yes. Please." He swallowed hard and pulled Sherlock's shirt off. Much better. He ran his hands down his husband's chest, admiring the few gray hairs he found the trail that led into his husband's trousers. "I want you to have to carry me back to our bedroom when you are done with me," he said softly as he started undoing Sherlock's pants.

Sherlock growled excitedly and slammed his hips into John's roughly with a moan. Hard and fast. He didn't want to wait anymore. Even now his husband was taking his clothes off. He moved his hands to John's shirt and helped his husband get it off. "Can't wait to be inside of you." His hands moved to John's trousers next, fingers fumbling in his haze of arousal.

"Now. Inside me. _Now_." John gasped and helped Sherlock get his trousers off. He slid his pants off and did the same for his husband. "Love you." He gave Sherlock a quick, rough kiss and turned around. Eyes closed. He couldn't look down or he would see people walking on the street. He moved a hand and started stroking his cock slowly as he stuck his ass out. "Please, Sherlock."

Well, John seemed to be more anxious than he was. It made Sherlock smirk. He prepped his husband roughly and then slicked his cock down with lubricant. He rammed into John with a loud moan, wasting no time in getting into a rough and fast pace. One hand dropped from the glass, to his husband's penis. He moved John's hand out of the way so he could he jerk his husband off while he shagged the man against the window from behind. He grunted from the effort, head bent down so he could begin biting John's shoulder, growling with enthusiasm. Scratching. Right. The other hand moved from the window as well, nails digging into his husband's skin. He leaned into John heavily for support, keeping with a fast rhythm and thrusting as deeply as he could each time.

The window was cold and John's cheek was shoved roughly against it with each thrust. "Nngh, fuck," he shouted as he pushed his hips back slightly. Enough room for Sherlock's hand. It hurt a bit, the burn was just right and Sherlock was doing everything he wanted. His eyes were slammed shut, head turned to the side so he didn't have to look outside. "Sher-" he moaned and pressed back against his husband.

Sherlock smirked and bit down into John's other shoulder with another growl. He moaned with each deep thrust. This felt wonderful. His fingers continued to claw at his husband's back, leaving red streaks in their wake. He tried to keep pace with his hand on John's cock with each thrust inside of his husband, knuckles banging into the glass some but he ignored that. There would be bruises later but that was nowhere near the abuse John's body was taking right now. His husband was enjoying it and hell, he loved dishing it out.

Each thrust felt like it shot through John's body, a mix of pleasure and pain to remind him how wonderful Sherlock was and how old he was getting. He wanted to say so much, that he loved it and wanted more but his mouth wasn't working. He couldn't do anything but press his chest against the glass and moan with each thrust. At the rate Sherlock was going he was going to be hoarse by the end. "Mmph." He opened his mouth and moved one hand to grip Sherlock's thigh. After several moments he curled his fingers and dug them into his husband's skin.

Scratching. "Yes," he managed to moan out and then bit into John's shoulder again. Sherlock was lasting longer than he thought he would, considering how fast everything was going and the exertion involved. Especially since they hadn't shagged in days. He was getting close now though, he could tell.

John tensed as he came across the window, falling limp against it as Sherlock continued to thrust into him from behind. Fuck, his legs were going to give out. Maybe Sherlock's worries about his age were more accurate than he cared to admit. He turned his head slightly and pressed his forehead against the cool glass as his free hand slid down the glass. "Sherlock," he whispered.

Sherlock stopped scratching and released John's cock so he could support them both better by placing his hands back on the window. He moaned out his husband's name as he came after a few more quick thrusts. Shit. That had been amazing. Despite being worn out he managed to stay standing, but breathing heavily. He didn't want to crush John against the glass by collapsing into his husband. He tried to say something but his breathing was still too erratic. He closed his eyes, his cheek resting on John's shoulder.

John finally whimpered and coughed slightly. Definitely hoarse. Very much worth it, though. He tried to push himself off the window but his arms were shaking too much and collapsed against the cool glass with a sigh. Sherlock had certainly made sure he wasn't going to walk. For a moment he tried to keep himself standing but finally gave up, leaning back against his husband. Warm, sweaty... "Sherlock," he muttered as his head fell back on to Sherlock's shoulder.

Shit. Usually Sherlock could support John easily but he somehow managed to now, even though he was barely holding himself up at the moment. He leaned forward, hoping the window would alleviate some of the pressure needed to keep them both standing. "Love you," he managed to breathe out. It appeared neither of them were going to be moving anywhere soon. Should they edit this bit out or leave it in the video?

John groaned and moved back against the window, his body falling forward with a thud against the window. "Love you too," he said softly in reply as he finally managed to at least catch his breath. In his afterglow he could hardly think straight but he knew almost immediately how horrid the pain in his body was. Scratches, bites...God, his arse was feeling worse than it ever had. "Bed? Can we..." His eyes closed together and slid down to his knees on the floor.

Right. Suck it up. He had to carry John when in worse shape than this, he could do it again damn it. Sherlock slid his arms under his husbands arms, so he could keep John from sliding all the way to the floor. "I got you Love." With stamina he didn't realize he still had, he hoisted his husband up and stumbled to their bedroom. Had he gotten too carried away? It was what John had asked for. He gently placed his husband down and then unceremoniously collapsed in a heap next to John on the bed. The camera was still running but he didn't have the energy to go turn it off right now.

John groaned slightly and curled into himself, ignoring the pain in his body to press into Sherlock's side. "Good. 'S good," he whispered with another small cough. He couldn't have asked for anything better. It was exactly what his husband had wanted and they had gotten it all on tape. They could watch it all again. "You are wonderful. Thank you," he muttered as he pressed a gentle kiss against Sherlock's ribs.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John. Shit. He had really hurt his husband, hadn't he? No more rough shagging. He couldn't keep doing this to John, no matter what his husband said about it. He managed a faint smile, bent his head and kissed the top of John's head. "Love you." He had said it just moments ago but he felt like it needed to be said again.

Soft kisses. John smiled a bit glanced up at Sherlock. "You have gray hair on your stomach," he whispered wryly. "Noticed it when I was undressing you." He grinned eagerly and, despite the pain in his body, looked more like a little boy than a man who had just been shagged. "You are getting old, just like me," he chuckled and pressed his nose against his husband's side.

Sherlock smirked. "Yeah, I have noticed. Takes more effort to get up off the floor than I would like." He nestled his head against John's gently. Even after shagging, he enjoyed being close to his husband. "Are you all right Love?" He shouldn't have been so rough. After talking about John getting older at the manor he hadn't intended to ever do it again, but he had been selfish and couldn't help himself.

Did he lie and make sure that Sherlock had no idea? Or did he tell the truth? John swallowed hard and nodded, smiling a bit. "Of course," he said softly, trying to keep his face as emotionless as possible. There was no need to worry his husband at all and make him think that he had done anything wrong. He'd been just as willing to go rough and take everything that Sherlock gave him.

Except, he'd had to _carry_ John to the bedroom. Sherlock didn't comment. No point. They already had this discussion and this was his first day back to the flat in awhile. He didn't want to ruin the moment. "All right. Well, I don't know about you but I plan on staying in bed the rest of the day. Tired. I might even nap. I didn't really sleep while I was away from you. Maybe now I can, curled against you." That sounded wonderful really.

"As wonderful as that sounds," John cut himself off with a yawn and closed his eyes. "We have got children coming home soon." But staying awake wasn't an option, really. He was already fighting sleep and could barely raise his voice above a loud whisper. "Somebody has to deal with 'em at some point," he added with a snort. "Quick nap, though. We can do a quick nap."

Sherlock wasn't sure he would be able to do just a quick nap. If he fell asleep now, he was certain he would sleep for several hours. His body needed it really, with the lack of sleep and a rough shagging. He hadn't realized just how tired he was until now. It wouldn't be the first time he forced himself to stay awake and it probably wouldn't be the last. "It's fine. I will sleep later."

"No," John whispered, shaking his head and wrapping his arm around his husband's torso. "Stay. Sleep. Mrs. Hudson, she can..." He winced as his entire body tensed in pain. Fuck, he was in more pain than he thought but he would fight through it. "Sleep," he repeated as he glanced up at his husband. For the first time in a week he had an opportunity to sleep next to Sherlock, fall asleep with his constant breathing. "Sleep with me."

Sleep did sound very alluring. Sherlock frowned as he felt John's body tense up. Pain. Obviously. And it was his fault. How could he fall asleep now? Knowing that his husband was hurting because he had no self control? Hopefully Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind watching the children. Even though he didn't think he deserved any kind of respite, his eyes closed as sleep overtook him before he even had a chance to fight it.

There. John smiled a bit and watched Sherlock for a long moment. Watching the man sleep was the eighth wonder of the world. He yawned, shifted to pull the blankets over both of them, and curled right back into his husband's side. Hell, Mrs. Hudson probably heard them and knew to take care of Amy and Thomas for a bit. "I love you," he whispered into Sherlock's side before finally giving into sleep.


End file.
